


The Less Than Secret Life

by YellowDistress



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Taken Seriously, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Teen Father, Teen Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Young Peter Parker, basically a fetus right now, set in the 80s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-10-30 05:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17823032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowDistress/pseuds/YellowDistress
Summary: Tony figures his biggest worries in life are the fact that he's fourteen and already graduating high school, struggling to please his perfectionist father and trying to fit in with a crowd of freshman college students.Until...they’re not.





	1. Only Once

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ ME:  
> Because I know there will be lots of questions and I want to clear things up before we jump into this...very odd story.
> 
> 1) The underage warning is because a fourteen-year-old sleeps with an eighteen-year-old. Clearly this is problematic, but no scenes are explicit and the two are not 'shipped' together or romanticized. The ages are important to note, as they become vital later in the story, cause of course Howard likes to twist thing to the media.  
> 2) This is very much an AU. Probably like...the most AU story I've ever written considering it's set in the 80s when Tony is a teenager and Peter clearly wasn't born until 2001...also, Peter is Tony's biological child in this which is also very AU.  
> 3) I'm not positive of how many chapters this will have yet. It's not going to be terribly long, maybe about seven is what my outline says but that could change. As of right now it's not too lengthy.
> 
> I got the idea for this while watching Secret Life of the American Teenager (throwback am I right?) Anyway, I started searching and couldn't find any fics. So I just wrote it myself cause that's what happens with me. I have my other stories I'm working on, but don't worry, I'm a hard worker and I have faith I can do this. I haven't failed yet, let's go for it!
> 
> Also, I completely understand if this isn't your cup of tea. Teen pregnancy is a huge issue. So if this is something that makes you uncomfortable, do not feel obligated to read! I don't want anyone to feel unsafe or anything like that. ❤

 

_December 1984_

 

Being a fourteen-year-old _(nearly a fifteen-year-old)_ senior in high school meant Tony didn’t get invited to a lot of parties.

 

Well, not high school parties, anyway. High school kids were either terrified of him, or made fun of him, and so that meant having a good time around him wasn’t exactly on the list. But he supposed MIT must have been different with their standards. Everyone there was trying to make a name for themselves and the Stark name was respected enough, so it didn’t have the same air as being in high school. College parties were a whole new thing to him, but since he would be graduating high school soon and then starting at MIT in the following months, it only made sense to acquaint himself with the new life that awaited him. A life, he expected, that would offer much more freedom than the one living with his mother and father in their penthouse.

 

It was a long-awaited escape. It wasn’t that it was his mother’s fault, because it never would be. He could never blame her for the turbulence his life was, but he did wish she would intervene more often than she did. Howard Stark was a cold, calculating individual that often made it difficult to even breathe comfortably in the same room as him because Tony half expected the man to start quizzing him on nuclear physics or the interworkings of Stark Industries. The way he would quiz him at the dinner table when he was younger, and it would irritate his mother when Howard would scold him for getting some questions wrong.

 

_“He’s eleven-years-old, Howard.”_

_“He needs to know these things, the sooner he learns them the easier it’ll be for him in the future.”_

Future, future, future, it was always about the future and what Tony was going to do with it. While his classmates were enjoying weekend parties and going out, Tony got to sit in his room and study most nights. But they had been a bit more lenient with him, since his early graduation approaching in late December. A whole semester before expected…well several years early, but the extra semester had been a surprise. Tony hadn’t realized he was that far ahead, it wasn’t guessed to come until later.

 

Tony tried not to be nervous for the party. He was relatively charismatic on his own, Howard Stark had taught him to lie through his teeth, but that was for the older generation. People his age, even if they were about three years older, still frightened him. They made him anxious, Tony wasn’t good at fitting in, despite Rhodes insisting everything was going to be fine and that he had friends at this party that Tony would be able to mingle with. Mingle. What an old word. Tony felt like Rhodes was ages older, not just eighteen.

 

He was extremely grateful for his friend though. It would make the transition into MIT much easier, hopefully Tony wouldn’t completely lose his mind. He knew the moment Howard allowed him any slack on his tight leash, he was going to run with it, but Rhodey would help. He’d slow it down a bit, and Tony had been reading about people flunking out their first semesters and Tony was kind of scared about that, but he didn’t let it get to him too much. He held it back, swallowed down the fear, and he just went along with the anxiety in his brain…Following along as they entered the giant house, owned by someone Rhodey didn’t really know, but apparently college parties weren’t like high school parties. You didn’t have to know the person to be let in.

 

People were dancing and the first thing Tony noticed was the thick smell of cigarettes in the air. For some reason, when he had imagined MIT students, he had thought they would be living with their noses in books constantly. But these people weren’t, they just seemed like normal young adults and a part of Tony longed to fit in with them…to be their age…to not be so young and scrawny and sort of short for his age. Rhodey was a whole head above him and he looked over, smiling slightly at Tony.

 

“What do ya think?” Rhodey questioned, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the music.

 

Tony pursed his lips, “Just what I imagined. People rubbing their dicks on girls’ backsides.”

 

Rhodey rolled his eyes, but moved away and Tony followed through the crowded rooms. They entered the kitchen, which wasn’t nearly as dense and Rhodey grabbed a solo cup, handing it over to Tony. He only hesitated slightly and Tony raised an eyebrow before Rhodey sighed and explained, “Last time I let you drink around me, I ended up carrying you home.”

 

“Aw, c’mon Rhodes, I’ll be careful.”

 

“There is no ‘careful’ with you and drinking.”

 

Tony snatched the solo cup and chugged down the bitter liquid. He fought the urge to make a face. Part of why Tony drank, was to relax. He lived his life on a high bar, higher and higher as Howard dug his nails in deeper. Tony struggled, and it was difficult to keep his head in the right place. He wasn’t sure if that was how it was for everyone. A part of him hoped he wasn’t some freak who couldn’t keep himself together, but it was clear to him…at moments, he was just as broken as many other kids he encountered. Having Stark as a last name didn’t make him immune to Howard’s attacks. He was always stiff, drinking cured that sometimes. But he had to be careful, Howard didn’t like distractions and Tony had to behave.

 

Rhodey made a face in response to Tony chugging down the liquid. In such situations, Rhodey was the voice of reason, the regular big-brother. And Tony was the holed up kid who didn’t know what to do with an ounce of freedom that was extended towards him. His parents knew he was with Rhodey, not where though, and it was only because his father had been distracted that he had managed to get out of the house. In retrospect, maybe it was weird to bring a fourteen-year-old to a college party, but it was a part of celebrating Tony’s acceptance into MIT.

 

Tony was a lightweight, there was no doubt about it. He knew he wouldn’t need much, and it wasn’t long before one of Rhodey’s buddies were slapping him on the shoulder, greeting him. Rhodey introduced Tony of course, but most of the time when meeting MIT students, they just wanted to ask Tony about Howard, and that wasn’t fun for him in the slightest. Talking about the man that made life sort of miserable wasn’t his idea of a good time and Tony found his retreat as soon as he could, even if it meant wandering around without his friend and being socially inept.

 

Truth was, Tony hadn’t quite figured out parties. Not after being dragged to so many ‘fancy’ ones by his parents. He didn’t know how to be his age, or three-years-older. He hoped college would change that, and by the time he started for long, May would have passed, and he would be fifteen. Fourteen and fifteen seemed like completely different lifetimes, and it wouldn’t have been so bad to introduce himself to eighteen-year-olds as being fifteen, would it? Especially girls.

 

Tony carried himself to the second floor, the walls almost shaking with how loud the music was. People were kissing sloppily on the staircase and Tony fought the urge to laugh at them. Don’t laugh at drunk people trying to get it, that was wrong, and so he stepped over the guy and girl on the stairs, heading up to where the crowd wasn’t as dense. Honestly, this entire experience was an experiment on its own. Tony was gauging people, getting a feel for what his life would be like for a long time to come. Whether or not he wanted it to be that life. Howard had always told him these social gatherings were a distraction, and were they? Tony had been torn his entire life between being normal and wanting to make Howard Stark proud. And the only way to make Howard proud was to be extraordinary…extraordinary people didn’t make friends easily.

 

Soon, his cup was empty, and he felt warm. Not blackout, clearly, there hadn’t been nearly enough for that, but certainly _warm_. He leaned against the wall of the hallway, he wondered how long they had been there. It only felt like they had just walked in when Rhodey’s other friends had stolen him away. Tony wasn’t jealous, he knew Rhodey viewed him more as a little-brother that needed to be led. It had always been like that, the guy was a few years older than him, after all. They had only met because of MIT, Rhodey was the right kind of Freshman, Tony was going to be a weird progressed Freshman…but all of his friends would be older for the rest of his natural life he guessed.

 

Tony sighed, placing his elbows on his knees as he lowered himself to the floor in a kneeling position. Some people down the hallway were screwing. Definitely screwing. Tony laughed to himself, and ran a hand through his hair, and probably he’d think it was kind of weird, but right now with everything warm, being a lightweight, barely over 115 pounds, it was _funny_.

 

“You hear them too?”

 

Tony’s head snapped upward, and standing at the end of the hallway was a girl. She smiled down at him, holding a cup in her hand. She was pretty, was Tony’s initial impression as she approached him. She didn’t seem dressed for a party, but looked fine with that nonetheless. She tilted her head slightly, before kneeling down beside Tony against the wall and she gestured to the closed door.

 

She went on, “They do that. My roommate and her beau of the week. Happens.”

 

Tony hummed, “Of the week?”

 

“We don’t judge,” She smiled, “If you do I’ll have to kick you out.”

 

He held up his hands in defense, jokingly “I don’t. None of my business how people like to pass their time. Honestly, sounds like they’re having more fun than I am waiting out this party.”

 

She made a face, nodding, “Ah…not your thing?”

 

“I’m trying to make it my thing,” Tony answered, shrugging, “I’m going to school with these people in a few months…I want to make myself more social, but it’s hard. I do better with talking to older men in suits. They’re much easier to entertain considering they spend their time looking at paperwork or golfing.”

 

Tony didn’t know why he was telling her all of that. Must have been the warmth, and she looked trustworthy. Plus he was mercilessly bored out there, listening to her roommate and someone else have at it. She nodded her head slowly, “Well, I’ve only been in school with them a semester but…it’s nothing grand, trust me. I will say, it’s better than high school. Mostly because you can run away from them when you want, you don’t have a teacher forcing you to sit in class eight hours a day with the same clowns.”

 

She took a sip of her drink, swallowing before setting it aside and offering a hand, “I’m Mary, by the way.”

 

“Tony,” Tony answered, taking her hand and shaking it.

 

“Well, Tony,” Mary hummed, grinning, “Wanna see my record collection?”

 

 His mouth upturned slightly…and he nodded.

 

…

 

Tony woke up blearily, nearing two in the morning.

 

Someone was shaking his shoulder, and Tony startled awake, looking up to see Rhodes leaning over him with a concerned expression on his face. Tony’s brows furrowed, until he sat up suddenly, looking at his friend as Rhodey jumped back at the action. The guy looked slightly disgusted, grabbing a nearby blanket and throwing it over Tony’s lap before he hissed in a quiet voice, “Put on your clothes.”

 

“What…” Tony looked around, wondering why Rhodey was whispering so quietly. His head started to shake back and forth, and he processed the room around him. The walls were almost lime, a thick shag carpet on the floor. He recognized it from earlier, from him and Mary looking at her records, laughing, listening to them and then…well she had looked pretty, smiling, and Tony had leaned in. Had pressed his lips to hers and then after that it was…well it wasn’t something a fourteen-year-old was supposed to be doing with a girl that was probably four years older than himself.

 

Because…laws.

 

His head whipped to the side and there she was, sound asleep, slightly illuminated by the lamp on the bedside table. She was sleeping on her stomach, her back bare and Tony ran a hand through his hair and looked up at Rhodey, breathing out slowly as he hissed, tugging at the nape of his own neck, “Holy shit – I…”

 

“You dumbass,” Rhodey growled, “You slept with someone?”

 

Tony blinked, and held out his hands, “This is a bad thing?”

 

“It is when you’re fourteen,” Rhodey smacked him on the back of the head, “Howard is never gonna let you come out again…just put on your damn clothes.”

 

Tony did as he was told, slowly climbing out of the bed, wincing as the springs groaned under his weight. He slipped his pants on first, then his shirt and Rhodey was shaking his head like a disappointed parent the entire time, his arms crossed over his chest. Tony casted one last glance back towards Mary, her kindness left in the remnants of the air, in her laughter in his head and the way she hadn’t treated him like some little kid…well, she hadn’t known how old he was, after all, but she had to suspect, right? He couldn’t have looked eighteen, but then again, she didn’t look too old either. But he wasn’t sorry.

 

Tony followed Rhodey out of the room, and the two of them stepped over several sleeping bodies in the hallways and on the stairs, trying not to crinkle cups under their feet. Tony felt a bit of guilt, leaving before Mary had woken up…he would have liked to have kissed her goodbye. At least. He didn’t know if he’d get to see her again, and she was probably the only girl that had ever looked his way in his life, being the scrawny genius-kid didn’t get him much attention at school. Girls weren’t interested in that, and he was happy he had met her.

 

The alcohol was still buzzing a bit in his head as he climbed into Rhodey’s passenger seat. He hoped Rhodey hadn’t drank anything past the solo cup he had seen him grab earlier, but Rhodey was a stickler for the rules, so Tony guessed he wasn’t drunk as they pulled out of the driveway with ease. Rhodey was gripping the steering wheel, and Tony noticed he had started to shake his head back and forth again.

 

“Stop acting like Howard,” Tony pouted, “It was just fun, and she was nice.”

 

Rhodey groaned, “Need I repeat you are fourteen. I didn’t bring you to this party so you could sleep with someone with the risk of getting them into trouble.”

 

Tony blinked, “No…I mean…I said yes.”

 

“You’re _underage_ , Tony,” Rhodey said, “Doesn’t matter if you said yes.”

 

Tony blinked, before he swallowed thickly. Well then…no one had to know. He felt a bit of anxiety though, welling in his stomach. He hadn’t told Mary he was fourteen…he hadn’t really realized it mattered. She was still a teenager too and…Well Tony didn’t really understand, but he had never had such an interaction before, so it had never been an issue until that night. Tony rubbed his hands together awkwardly, blinking as he looked out the window. Losing one’s virginity was supposed to be a big deal, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure…he didn’t feel much different, it had been anticlimactic inside a house party, and he would probably never see Mary again.

 

Everyone made it like it was supposed to be special but…well, it didn’t feel that way. And now Rhodey was scolding him like a father would.

 

“I wasn’t…trying to get her in trouble.”

 

Rhodey sighed, “I know. But you gotta be careful, at least until you’re sixteen. Y’know, you’re gonna be around people that won’t know how old you are. They’re going to assume that because you’re in college, you’re old enough. And Howard would shit bricks if he found out, of course…we don’t wanna risk any of that.”

 

Tony nodded in agreement. Right…right. Be careful. He leaned back in the seat, blinking several times. He wasn’t sure what else to say…and so they rode in silence, Tony feeling somewhat guilty for what had transpired. Rhodey of course, was going to go blame himself for not watching Tony, but Tony didn’t want that. He was tired of being looked at like a kid when he was clearly old enough to go to those parties. He was old enough to be accepted into MIT. He would fifteen in a few months, it didn’t matter…Tony didn’t regret going out with him, he had, had fun and Mary had been a nice fucking person.

 

It was small talk, until arriving at the penthouse. Tony insisted on going up alone, mostly because it was late and he knew if anyone in the house was still awake, he would probably receive yet another scolding that night, and he didn’t want that. Especially not in front of Rhodey who he could tell was kind of mad at him for the whole situation with Mary. Or frustrated might have been a better word, Rhodey never really got mad at him. Tony was living in a world surrounded by adults and people that were older, wasn’t it bound to happen eventually? That was what he told himself anyway…

 

Tony took the elevator up, casting a smile to the doorman, but kept his head low, as if he felt like everyone could see that his head was buzzing with the remnants of alcohol and what had transpired that night until he made it to their residence and finally removed himself from the elevator. The moment he stepped out though, and into the foyer through the living room, he was running directly into a taller body, causing him to jump back in surprise.

 

And standing over him, was Howard.

 

Tony wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn’t. He simply blinked, trying to make his mind stop humming. His shoulders stiffened, and he lowered his hands from where they had raised against the force hitting him. His father looked as stoic as ever, face unfaltering…eyes digging holes into his skin. Tony swallowed thickly, and bit down on his lower lip before he whispered, “Hey, Dad.”

 

“You’re home late.”

 

“Yeah we uh…” Tony pointed his thumb back towards where he had come from, “The party, y’know…it lasted a while.”

 

Tony always struggled to find words to combat his Dad’s domineering presence. He wasn’t always around, usually he was gone quite often, but since Tony’s graduation and start at MIT were gradually nearing them in the coming months, Tony was finding it harder and harder to escape. The pressure to study more was shoved onto him, his father forced him to go to more board meetings than ever, and asked him so many questions about the company it made Tony’s head spin. Tony had never been so tired in his life, not like he had been the past several weeks. It was hard, he was struggling to keep up, but it didn’t stop him from trying his best. He just…he wanted to be enough, but right now under his Dad’s eyes, he wasn’t.

 

The question came, not really with accusation, but with knowledge.

 

“Were you drinking?”

 

Tony knew his father knew the answer already, he was just asking for effect maybe. He gulped, and folded his fingers together before nodding mutely. He couldn’t lie, not to Howard, it’d only make him more upset with him. And Tony didn’t want to fight, it had been a relatively fun night besides Rhodey’s lecture. Tony felt a firm hand grab his chin. It wasn’t rough, or threatening, but it demanded Tony’s attention and so his face lifted and he looked at his father’s stern expression.

 

“You need to behave,” He stated firmly, “You’re going to one of the best technological schools in the country. This isn’t a game. You can’t be foolish for the hell of it.”

 

Tony just whispered, “Yes sir.”

 

Despite his blood boiling, he didn’t say more. His dad released his face and ordered, “Go shower. You smell like alcohol.”

 

He didn’t have to be told twice. In fact he was glad to escape relatively unscathed besides his blood pressure needing to calm itself down. The thing about Howard was…he wasn’t all bad. And it prevented Tony from hating him whole-heartedly. Howard had his moments of affection, but they were rare and far in between and didn’t make up for the coldness he so often dished out. But it confused Tony, made him torn between hating him and tolerating him. He just wanted to do something right, he wanted his dad to look at him and genuinely say he was proud. And Tony had thought graduating a semester early from high school would finally do that, but it hadn’t.

 

Because Howard thought…yeah…the boy was doing what he needed to be doing. It was nothing special. Tony lived with the high expectations of a futurist. Sure he enjoyed everything…the wonderment of it all, of building and creating and the hope of a new world. But, his father made it so difficult sometimes, and by the end of most days Tony was so distressed he couldn’t sleep. It was too hard…to shut his eyes, and to drift off was the most difficult thing he could muster up.

 

Tony did what was asked of him…he showered and practically drowned himself in mouth-wash to get rid of the alcohol smell, just so it’d be gone in the morning when he saw his mother. She would not scold him, but he couldn’t stand her eyes holding sadness for him. She worried enough about what he was doing, his well-being, the stress he was under. He didn’t want to make it worse. His thick hair sat damply on his head, dark lashes fluttering closed as he laid down on his bed. The world was silent besides the city below, which mine as well have been.

 

Tony wished he wasn’t so young.


	2. Hurricane Howard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ – Anthony,” His father’s voice growled, “Answer me.”
> 
> Tony landed back in his body, like a train hitting a car full force as he stuttered, “S-sir?”
> 
> “Is it possible…that this is true?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really moving forward with this crack fic taken seriously my friends. Thanks for all the lovely feedback so far! I know it's weird concept, but it's very fun for me to explore. I think because I've never really gotten to write Tony with Howard and Maria and they're very fun so far! Hope you all enjoy. Warning, Howard is a dick in this chapter. I mean, he usually is but he's particularly one here.

As far as parties went and its significance, Tony supposed being fourteen meant forgetting such things in a matter of six weeks.

 

It wasn’t completely his fault, he supposed, things slipping his mind came quite naturally, or at least his dad would say so. He was so often forgot the things his dad wanted him to remember. Sometimes it dug deeply within him, into the guilt and the self-deprecation and then sometimes it was filed away in the cabinet titled ‘reasons why Howard Stark is a complete asshole’. It just depended on if Howard could actually convince him that day that something was his fault, or if the man was lacking in that category to make Tony actually think to himself that he had messed up.

 

Plus, his early graduation came and went with an odd easiness a few days before they hit the ‘six week’ mark. Christmas and New Years passed as well, and Tony was fully stocked on everything new and shiny, and he was sure his mother had picked half of it out as she still forced him to open every single gift in front of her like he was five. A part of him appreciated it, and he knew it made her happy, so he allowed the embarrassment without much of a quarrel, and even Howard would look upon the presents with some type of excitement, especially about latest gadgets. Though sometimes his opinions were ‘oh I could do better’.

 

Which would never change, and Tony ignored it now.

 

It could have been overshadowed by the many interviews his father had put him through, just to talk about what it felt like to be heading to MIT at only fourteen, though he’d be fifteen when he would start.  Tony answered the questions to the best of his ability. Truth was, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He just knew he was nervous, but couldn’t say it in front of his father because the expectations were too great and having nerves wasn’t ‘Stark’ like. Tony kept his mouth shut about it, unless he was talking to Rhodey who practically pried it out of him. Rhodey was big on talking about things, and Tony sometimes found it irritating even when he was pretty sure it had saved his life on a few occasions.

 

But Rhodey couldn’t very well rescue him from the ‘celebratory’ dinner his parents brought him to. Tony spent most of the time looking out the window, the city glowing with the night life and he wished to be anywhere but there, even if his mother was smiling at him and so happy. Usually their family dinners gave too much time to talk, too much time for Howard to scrutinize him, and too much time for Tony to want to crawl out of his own skin or just to start throwing punches.

 

Tony wasn’t supposed to be there…he was supposed to be with Rhodey, looking for another party.

 

“Are you still pouting?” Howard’s voice said, over his glass of wine before he pressed it to his lips.

 

Tony looked at him, swallowing thickly as he glanced at the white tablecloth. His mother didn’t look distressed, and Tony could read that the question wasn’t harsh, more curious, which meant Howard wasn’t particularly annoyed with Tony’s lack of conversation. He answered truthfully, “Rhodey and I were going to go to a party.”

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Howard answered, “Nothing against James, he’s an extremely intelligent young man. I think he could be good for you to have when you start school, but you need to stay away from those parties.”

 

Maria tsked, reaching out and taking Tony’s arm while smiling at him, “Oh come on, Howard. Don’t be boring, Tony’s a teenager, he should be having fun!”

 

Howard argued gently, always so gently towards Maria because the thing Tony had noticed was, Howard could be hard as hell towards everyone else, but not her. Not that he was soft, he never quite softened, but it was as if he knew whatever he handed her, she was going to hand right back with prejudice. So he was more careful, as to avoid wounds opening up in his own skin from her, “He isn’t just any teenager. He’s going to be one of the youngest students in MIT’s history, and not only that, he’ll be interning at the company to learn the basics. A company he’ll have to run in the future, and I would prefer it not be run into the ground – “

 

His father looked at him and Tony held his gaze as Howard finished, “ – the boy has bad habits. He doesn’t know when enough is enough.”

 

Tony ground his teeth together almost painfully, pushing at the steak on his plate. It wasn’t that he could argue…sometimes Tony didn’t know when enough was enough. Alcohol, arguing, getting put in his place by Howard was a routine. And he was certainly in his place, because it was public, Tony hadn’t had any drinks to make him feel courageous, and so he just shut up and kept his eyes on the plate in front of him, taking some satisfaction in how the fork scrapped sharply.

 

“Stop playing with your food, eat it,” Howard ordered, sounding absentminded, “You’re getting skinny from living off of caffeine.”

 

Tony’s head snapped up and he spoke despite himself, “Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t make me study all night and day.”

 

The look Howard flashed him was a familiar one. Maybe it was just the wine that had Howard relaxed though, because he didn’t tear into Tony with words that were sharp enough to make a grown elephant bleed. Maria must have thought he was going to though because her hand tightened on Tony’s arm and she looked as if she was about to bite Howard’s head off to keep him calm. However, he just pointed his fork at Tony and ordered, “Watch your mouth.”

 

And Tony did.

 

He bit his tongue, said nothing and finished the rest of his food without argument. They were only ever surrounded by the whispers of the rich, not really whispering about them, not that night anyway. Maria led most of the conversations, but Tony didn’t have much to say. All his father wanted him to talk about was MIT but it wasn’t Tony’s focus at the moment. He wanted to talk about life in general, about the articles he had read that day, about people he had met, even if their parents didn’t have super fancy last names.

 

Howard was so very hard to gauge. Tony felt like it was eggshells, always…just constant and constant, and his hands shook heavily while he sat there and waited for them to finish because his anxiety was spiking through the roof and he didn’t know. Sometimes, when he went this long without sleep (his father had been keeping him up late looking at schematics) he would start to freak out over stuff that wasn’t really happening. It would feel like he needed to hurry and do something, but there was nothing to do, not right then, but with Howard there was always something that needed to be done. His leg bounced. He didn’t need to be having dinner, he needed to be working on something, doing something, finishing a project, getting ahead, stepping in front of someone –

 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” His mother was standing, and he noticed his father putting on his coat and oh…they had finished…Somewhere in the lost portions of Tony’s mind, he had missed the last thirty-minutes of their dinner together and he blinked almost blearily as her as she tugged on him, maybe her eyes were knowing…but she didn’t know the true extent. Howard told Tony not to tell her how late he was staying up. Like it was a secret, and he guessed it was. Because Howard must have known Maria would put a stop to the over-working.

 

She hooked her arm around in the crook of Tony’s elbow and they took the elevator down to the waiting car. Tony missed Jarvis so much sometimes it ached, but he was off overseas, and so Tony supposed letters had to suffice for the time being. Existing felt hard sometimes without Jarvis, when it was just the three of them in the back of the Rolls Royce, lights shining off the black car that always looked brand new. The amount of money they had sometimes was sickening, and Tony would have these existential thoughts were it was just like “should anyone have this much?”

 

He had started thinking that when he was in pre-school and he saw a hungry man begging on the sidewalk.

 

His nanny had pulled him away.

 

Tony shifted to look out the window, but it didn’t last long before his father questioned, “Do you have your assignments in order?”

 

He opened his mouth to respond but his mother questioned, “Assignments? He only just graduated.”

 

“SI assignments,” Howard provided, “I’ve given him a few easy projects to work on for me.”

 

_Easy projects my ass._

Tony cleared his throat, “I finished the first two…and half of the third one.”

 

Howard raised an eyebrow and Tony felt the gravity of that stare sink in. It wasn’t dangerous, but it was dangerous to Tony’s self-esteem as he felt his face flush slightly with both frustration and embarrassment. His hands folded together and he looked down slightly, swallowing thickly past the lump that had formed in his throat suddenly, just from the quick exchange that had only felt like a few moments…

 

“Thought I gave you plenty of time for all three.”

 

Tony said nothing. Just stiffened his lip, and nodded in an agreement that he didn’t believe in as they were driven up to the curb of the penthouse. The driver got out, quickly walking around and opening their door. Tony’s mother grabbed his arm again, not letting him get far as if she thought he was going to disappear right before her very eyes and she smiled so brightly at him, and Tony wondered how she could miss the tension in the car, or if she hadn’t…was this her way of comforting him? As much as he loved her, it didn’t help…Howard was still there, looming like a shadow as they entered the lobby and took the elevator up to the top floor where life was only worse most of the time when they were staying in the city.

 

“Maybe,” His mother hummed to him in the elevator, “You and I can go out to breakfast sometime next week, just the too of us, huh? Seems like we never get alone time.”

 

He blinked at her, and oh, she definitely knew why he was trembling. Why there was always so much stress in his eyes, why he shook from the amount of caffeine he took in and tried to stay awake, had resorted to Adderall on more than a few occasions. Something he’d never admit to her. Then he looked at Howard, who seemed to be ignoring their conversation completely. Tony knew Howard didn’t like his mother’s coddling…but Tony could only melt into her like she was the only true ally he had in a sea of destroyers.

 

“Yeah Mom,” Tony replied, “Yeah that…that’s cool.”

 

The elevator dinged and all three exited into the foyer. They barely made two steps into the kitchen area before all three of them paused, Tony’s mother still holding his arm as they took in the sight before them. Standing at the counter were two men that Tony recognized immediately. One being his father’s business partner, Obadiah Stane…and the other, their press agent, Malachi Barber.

 

“Obie!” Maria exclaimed, moving towards the kitchen and therefore pulling Tony along with her, “Oh, you should’ve called. I could have had some drinks or something set out for you two. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

 

She glared back at Howard who seemed just as surprised, and Obadiah provided, “Don’t be hard on him, Maria…I’m actually surprised to be here tonight, as well, and so is Malachi. But it’s uh…well, I would say a bit of an emergency.”

 

Tony wasn’t surprised when his father took several steps forward, moving around him and almost immediately he dismissed Tony, saying, “Give us a moment.”

 

Tony felt his mother release his arm, and he turned, about to take his first step out of the kitchen. He was used to being sent away, after all, some business was just not the business of a fourteen-year-old, even if Tony felt he knew just as much about the world around him as his father did. It was better not to argue though, particularly not in front of company, but Tony’s strides were stopped when Obadiah said, “I think it’s best if he stays.”

 

The boy whirled around, brows furrowing as he took in the adults. His father seemed hesitant, and now a bit more concerned with that new information. Tony should stay…he should stay, but the only reason he should stay is because he is involved and Tony had no idea in the world about how he could be involved in something concerning Obadiah and the company’s press agent. He felt his shoulders tense though, the air becoming thick, thicker than the restaurant was. He didn’t miss the way his mother stepped to his side, as if to protect him from whatever was to come but…Tony just couldn’t imagine what…why he would need to be in the room.

 

Tony watched his father put his hands in his pockets and he asked, “What is this about?”

 

There had been many nightmares about what his biggest mess up in life would be. Not finishing high school, not getting accepted into MIT, failing out of MIT, letting his family legacy down…but there was this build up that told him whatever was about to come out of their mouths, it was going to be bad, just by the gesture Obadiah made towards Malachi to explain whatever it was. Tony chewed the inside of his cheek as the man moved forward, placing a paper on the counter and sliding it towards Howard…

 

Malachi cleared his throat…and Tony thought it was just another nightmare…

 

“Your lawyers were contacted today by the parents of an eighteen-year-old named Mary Fitzpatrick…”

 

The moment Tony heard the name, he almost lost balance, almost fell into his mother.

 

Malachi continued…

 

“She’s approximately six weeks pregnant…and they’re claiming the father is your son.”

 

The room spun, and Tony’s head spun with it. It felt like everyone froze in a sort of shock in that moment. Tony felt a deep sense of confusion open up within him. Pregnant…pregnant, no that didn’t sound right. Being pregnant meant…well, _that_ had happened, at least he was pretty sure. He felt something heavy settle on his shoulders, and he slumped slightly, almost choking on his own saliva. His eyes blinked rapidly, and he didn’t miss how his father turned slowly to face him, and mouths were moving, but he couldn’t hear anything past the screaming in the back of his mind because no, no, no it couldn’t be real, and he didn’t even know _how_ it had happened –

 

“ – Anthony,” His father’s voice growled, “Answer me.”

 

Tony landed back in his body, like a train hitting a car full force as he stuttered, “S-sir?”

 

“Is it possible…that this is true?”

 

Tony felt his face _burn_ with embarrassment. All these people were here, and not just people, but his mother was listening and his father was the one asking the question, and Tony tugged at the hem of his shirt anxiously, swallowing, and trying to make the words form in his mouth but he felt like he had never been so mortified in his entire life. Like…not even being concerned about the fact a girl was pregnant, but he was about to say he had lost his fucking virginity in front of his parents and that was _so messed up_. And he didn’t want to…he wanted to go to bed. He was so tired and already anxious from earlier and it felt like everything was too heavy.

 

He crossed his arms, to build a barrier as he hunched into himself slightly…

 

“I…” Tony whispered weakly, eyes looking anywhere but at his dad, “I…Well, I…”

 

“ _Anthony_ ,” He snapped.

 

Maria ordered sharply, “Give him a _second_ , Howard.”

 

He felt so small, finally managing to get the words past his lips, coming out so quietly he knew his father could barely hear him in his childish voice, “I mean I…yeah…we did… _it_.”

 

The slap had shocked him slightly, but a part of him wasn’t surprised. His mother sounded horrified though from the way she gasped at the hand having struck him across the face. Truthfully…it didn’t hurt very much and only stung just a moment, but he had to look away, because his eyes were teary and he couldn’t cry in front of Howard. His mother moved forward though, grabbing him gently by his face where he had turned his back to his dad and inspected him before snapping towards her husband, “What is wrong with you!?”

 

Maria’s fingers went through his hair before his face was shoved protectively down into her shoulder. Tony was grateful, feeling as if his tears could be hidden then from the men in the room. Usually Howard didn’t resort to such physical measures, his words did plenty enough and the shock of it made his chest stutter slightly as he shivered in his mother’s arms. Tony heard his father ask them, “What does the girl want?”

 

“She’s refusing money to have it taken care of,” Obadiah’s voice sighed, as if the slap hadn’t happened in the first place and this was all just an inconvenience, “The family is religious like that. She wants to put the baby up for adoption when it’s born since she’s still an MIT student…”

 

Tony finally lifted his head from his mother’s shoulder, blinking the tears away rapidly and he noticed his father shaking his head, “No…no that’s too much of a risk, having a kid out there, the chance them finding out where they really come from and looking for some kind of entitlement. Then a portion of the company could end up with some…untrained, illegitimate.”

 

There was a beat of silence, his father lowering his head in the way he did when he was working on a particularly difficult project. He was scratching the back of his neck, and Tony looked away just long enough to make eye contact with his mother. He noticed her eyes were teary as well, and she looked…so _sad_. And Tony was sorry, he was so sorry he had done this and he wanted to take that night all back, if it meant his mother wouldn’t look like this –

 

“You said the girl is eighteen?”

 

Malachi nodded his head and Howard hummed, “That could be better…that could…yeah, we’ll do that…”

 

And Tony…Tony felt dread open up like a trap door before it took him down, down, down…It seemed Obadiah and Malachi made the connection at the exact same moment before they were already nodding when Howard started to explain, “Twist it. Tony is only fourteen, she’s eighteen, she manipulated him. When the baby is born, we’ll…take it, and if the Fitzpatricks have any qualms with that they can speak to our lawyers about the possibility of charges. If they want to keep this pregnancy, fine. But that’s the endgame they’re signing up for.”

 

Tony stepped forward, without really thinking, a harsh sense of guilt slapping him harder than his father ever could, “Dad, you can’t do that to her! She didn’t manipulate me, that’ll completely ruin her!”

 

Howard whirled so fast, Tony barely had time to react before his father was ordering sharply, “Shut your mouth.”

 

A hand grabbed him by his chin harshly, and Tony blinked with wide, horrified eyes as his father continued just as fiercely, “You want to fuck people? Well, this is what happens when you do it at fourteen-years-old.”

 

“Howard, stop it,” Maria shoved his hand from Tony’s face, immediately tugging the boy away. Tony felt outside of his body, almost limp against his mother as he blinked in shock, feeling as if he was about to vomit all over the floor. Tony looked at her, he was almost taller than her now, and he bit his lower lip to stop from crying.

 

“Mom, please,” Tony begged, “Don’t let them…Mary was nice, you can’t…”

 

His mother only shushed him gently, pulling him from the group of men. Tony didn’t know how they moved so quickly, from there in the kitchen, to the hallway, and into his own bedroom. But within what felt like only a few seconds at most, he was sitting on the edge of his bed while his mother was shutting his bedroom door, a grave expression on her face that looked close to tears and Tony was just…he was just so sorry for what he had done and now so many people were going to get hurt because of it. Hot tears touched his cheeks then, because at least they were alone. His father wasn’t there, it was just his mom and she wouldn’t judge him for crying, she never did, as she sat beside him on the bed and pulled his head down to her shoulder.

 

“Shhhh,” Maria whispered, “It’s alright.”

 

“It’s not,” Tony hissed, pulling away and looking at her before he gestured to the door, “Dad is gonna…he’s going to ruin her life because of something like this and I – Mom he’s gonna take that baby from them, he’s going to make them give it to us, and I don’t even like being here, that baby isn’t gonna want to be here!”

 

Tony hiccupped, and he felt bad…felt bad for saying it like that, and saying that he didn’t even want to be there, because he did love his mother. But things were so rough, always and always around the edges. Mary was trying to do the responsible thing, she wanted to give the baby to a family that would love it, and yet Howard was too worried about ‘illegitimate’ blood coming back to haunt them. The boy laughed bitterly, glaring at his mother, his eyes bloodshot…

 

“He’s sick. H-he has to control everything so much that he can’t stand the thought of some kid out there sharing his DNA not being under his fucking hand. Cause he thinks they’ll have a mind of their own, because God forbid someone not want to follow Howard Stark’s guidelines on how to be a Stark.”

 

Tony stood to his feet, pushing several books from his bedside table and the lamp clattered to the floor in the process. His mother said nothing as Tony paced, running his fingers through his own hair until his mother breathed, “Tony…your father is just – “

 

“Don’t!” Tony whirled, pointing his finger at her, “Don’t make an excuse for him! I got…Mom, this girl is pregnant, and it’s my fault. And if I’m being completely honest, I would rather the backlash, I’d rather it be thirty years from now and some insane person show up claiming to be my kid and demanding half the company, then have Dad anywhere _near_ that baby.”

 

Maria ordered, “Lower your voice, and calm down, I will listen to you, but I can’t if you’re screaming at me.”

 

His mouth shut instantly, back going stiff as he stopped pacing and stared at her. As if he was expecting something, anything from her to offer him an explanation or a word of comfort. But the grim look on her face said that there wasn’t much she could offer. She could listen, she could listen to him all day, but ultimately…Howard Stark was a force to be reckoned with, even for Maria Stark and all of her power, there were some things she could not change…and maybe…maybe a part of her agreed with this preservation of their name and Tony hoped to everything that it wasn’t true. That she would never think the way Howard did. But she simply held out a hand to him, and Tony moved forward towards her, allowing her to wrap him in an embrace.

 

And Tony was silent. Because even if she listened, Howard had made an executive decision.


	3. Professors in Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is simply an inconvenience. You have things you need to accomplish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely responses. I know I say this a lot, but I love you all a ton ❤❤❤

_Young Tony,_

_I heard the stress you’ve been under the past several weeks and the news. I would just like to reassure you, if no one has done so yet, that everything is going to be alright. The world has a way of throwing these things at us, but there is no reason to look upon it as a curse. Your father told me of his intentions to have the child be raised under his roof. While I might not agree with his motives, I do have the utmost faith in you. Do not lose sight of your goals but know this gives you the opportunity to rectify things that you’ve felt have been wronged towards you. I think you will love the baby very much. They are quite difficult not to get attached to. I should know._

_I hope to return to the states in the coming months, but I can’t promise it will be within the year. I have missed you dearly, boy. I send all of my love._

_Edwin Jarvis_

Tony sighed, staring at the letter between his fingers. The ink was slightly smudged, maybe from rain or humidity during its travel to Massachusetts. Carefully, he set the paper down, glancing over at the telephone with the thoughts ringing through his mind. ‘Rectify’. Rectify…the only person he desired to do that for was Mary. After the press conference several weeks ago, the news papers had done nothing but slander her for ‘daring’ to sleep with a boy that was underage…all in all, when he had been the one who hadn’t _told_ her. 

 

She had to be close to twenty-one weeks at that point.

 

But Tony let the cowardice win and instead he just turned his attention back to his bio-chem homework. Truthfully, not much had been said about that night almost _fifteen_ weeks ago. Tony had started school at MIT, had been going to classes, had been hanging out with Rhodey like everything was normal. Of course Rhodey knew, because of the whole press conference, and he had tried to pry information out of Tony like he was digging in with a blade, but Tony just…he couldn’t talk about it. Because his dad didn’t want him to talk about it, and his mother would only say something if Howard wasn’t around to get all bitchy.

 

So Tony said nothing.

 

The idea of a baby was just so foreign. He had seen them, but he was pretty sure he had never been anywhere close to one. Had never held one. And all in all, it felt like this baby was non-existent because his father hardly told him anything besides the fact that Mary was going to regular appointments, that the baby was still coming, that they had to deal with the press. Which meant it was real, the baby was a real thing somewhere in the city…wherever Mary was. And he hadn’t seen her on campus, so it wasn’t as if he could just stop and ask her how everything was going, if she was okay, if she felt okay.

 

She wouldn’t though…his father was absolutely butchering her in the media.

 

Howard was ruthless, Tony had known that from a young age, but he hadn’t realized how ruthless he was until the past several weeks. And Tony dreaded a baby coming to live with them, he dreaded the notion of his dad influencing someone like Tony, and the baby was his after all, wasn’t it? But then again, maybe it wasn’t. Tony would be fifteen in about a month but…he wasn’t an adult. He didn’t have a job, or money, or a way to protect a baby from Howard. He couldn’t even escape his father’s long arm himself, how would he do it for a baby?

 

So maybe this wasn’t going to be _his_ baby, after all. Not really. It couldn’t be.

 

Just like choices about his own life didn’t belong to him. School didn’t belong to him. Tony was supposed to have been allowed to stay on campus, he was supposed to escape his dad’s tyrannical rule on their household, but now with the media constantly swarming…He couldn’t. But Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore, not if it meant risking leaving the baby alone with his dad. He trusted his mother, sure, and he doubted Howard would go anywhere near it until it was old enough to learn anything but still…Tony wasn’t willing to take the risk, but he couldn’t anyway without his father’s permission so…still not a decision he got to make for himself.

 

The bio-chem in front of him was frustrating enough. He was exhausted…but he had to finish. His first semester had been weighing down the past several weeks, and he was struggling, but life was just like that sometimes he supposed. Especially with starting so late. Most of the other freshmen had started in autumn, Tony was the only one he knew of that had come in for the spring semester, not to say other kids didn’t exist like him but he had a feeling Howard had pulled strings to get him in sooner, rather than later. Tony would have preferred to maybe have the semester off to just…sleep.

 

Even if he had, his father would have found something for him to do.

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the door to his bedroom opened suddenly, sending a shock down his spine. He blinked several times as he father entered, surprise etching itself into the teenager’s face because it wasn’t everyday that Howard came to his room seeking him out. Usually he sent someone to find him or called on the phone or something, but there he was…Looking at Tony with an unreadable expression, which seemed to be the norm now. Unreadable and stern, and stoic. Tony’s cheek had long stopped burning since the night they had found out about Mary and the baby, but when his dad looked like this he couldn’t help but remember and wonder what he must have done.

 

“Dad,” Tony breathed, dropping his pencil from his hand as he tried to make his mouth move, tried to speak past the anxiety welling and he pushed it down because he didn’t want to fucking be afraid of his dad, “What’re you…doing here?”

 

Howard raised an eyebrow entering the room further as he approached the bed where Tony had his homework sprawled out, “Well I live here.”

 

Sarcasm. Sometimes Tony forgot his father was capable of producing it, maybe even better than Tony sometimes. Tony’s face went dull and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes in irritation. He saw his dad’s eyes wandering over his homework a moment, before he questioned, filling the silence Tony wasn’t sure how to fill, “Bio-chemistry?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony swallowed, hoping the man wouldn’t look too closely because he would surely correct something, and Tony would get irritated and things would only get worse from there, “It’s my best class so far. But…Professor Radcliffe doesn’t like me very much because I corrected him on something…”

 

Howard rolled his eyes, moving towards the large windows that overlooked a city that was bright, “Sounds like an idiot who can’t take criticism.”

 

Tony made a face that Howard thankfully couldn’t see with his back turned. A face that said ‘you’re one to talk’, but he held it back from words leaving his mouth. His father would go through the fazes of wanting to be friendly, and it was always weird because Tony felt like he would be walking on thin ice. It also confused him greatly, it made it hard to hate Howard when he wanted so desperately to be accepted, even if Tony would never admit that. Tony looked down at his homework.

 

“He’s not so bad,” Tony amended, “He uh, he’s brilliant, really.”

 

Howard turned to face him, “You can’t be brilliant and closed-minded.”

 

Hypocrite. Hypocrite. Hypocrite.

 

Silence flitted between them, and Tony occupied himself with scanning his multiple colored pens. He felt his chest expanding and closing and he wanted so badly to ask what was sitting on the tip of his lips. His father seemed docile at the moment, it might have been the best time to form the question into existence. Maybe even the only time to do so. They were always walking on these odd eggshells now, Tony could never quite get a hold on where they were in their relationship. But it formed in his throat, and bubbled up, despite himself. Despite knowing it would put a damper on their very fragile civility.

 

“Have you…have you heard anything about the baby?”

 

It was like asking his father if he had murdered someone. A very, very tumultuous question indeed. His heart hammered and his father only narrowed his eyes, but they weren’t vicious, more so, they looked at Tony like he was inconveniencing not only Howard, but himself. His dad waved a simple hand and ordered, “You shouldn’t preoccupy yourself with that, you’re focusing on school.”

 

Tony tried his best to keep his tone even, twiddling his hands together, “I know, but I think I should ask questions if the baby is coming here after it’s born, right?”

 

Howard said nothing and Tony sucked in a deep breath.

 

“Won’t I have to…take care of it…and feed it and stuff? Dad I…”

 

Tony searched desperately for the words. It wasn’t good to look weak in front of Howard, but this was his father and he had _questions_ that he needed answered. Chewing on his lower lip, he finally pushed the last portion of the statement out, “I’ve never even _held_ a baby.”

 

To Tony’s surprise, his father didn’t look…angry. Not even frustrated. He simply looked at Tony as if they were consulting something like a bad grade or like he was telling him to study better for the next test. It didn’t feel like they were talking about a very human person that was going to be born in a few months’ time. Tony wondered if his father had ever even held him…he supposed he probably had, but he hadn’t seen any pictures of it. His father simply insisted, putting his hands in his pockets, “We’ll have help for that, it’s not your concern.”

 

Help. Help…

 

Tony breathed, “It’s my baby, Dad. I don’t want to be…useless.”

 

And then it came. The snap he was waiting for. His father’s voice spoke sharply and Tony felt his muscles stiffen immediately at the sound of the man’s voice, “You’re fourteen. You can barely keep yourself alive, let alone an infant.”

 

Tony felt his shoulders slump slightly. He might would have argued, if he wasn’t so exhausted and if his mother had been there to step in when he made the man too angry. But Tony wasn’t brave or stupid enough to start a full out brawl with Howard, no matter how badly he wanted to sometimes. Howard scared him. End of story. It simply wasn’t up for debate and Tony supposed it never would be, not with his father, not with anyone…And life would be like that forever, maybe, Tony fighting tooth and nail for his right to the person he had helped create and yet his father felt so entitled to that person.

 

Howard must have noticed the shift in Tony’s body language because there was a sigh. His voice came out in an amending sort of way, the kind of way when Tony was smaller, and his dad would snap and feel a foreign guilt for it. Tony hadn’t heard the voice since he was probably …eight. It was almost patronizing in an angering way, but Tony bit his lip.

 

“This is simply an inconvenience. You have things you need to accomplish.”

 

His father crossed the room, towards the open door and Tony felt sort of like he had just been struck in the chest by a brick. An inconvenience. His baby was an inconvenience. Tony had probably once been that to Howard, or maybe just some messed up heir. Born simply because the Stark name needed to continue on somehow and Tony had been the first and only one born, so there he was. Set to inherit it all…and then a baby was coming. Tony’s baby.

 

The man paused in the doorway, his back facing Tony and Tony fought the urge to throw a stapler at the back of his head. He turned, agonizingly to face back towards Tony and what left his mouth almost made Tony vomit all over his homework.

 

“It’s going to be a boy, by the way. She found out at her last appointment.”

 

He paused, then continued, “Your mother and I agreed that you could pick the name, so long as it’s something respectable. None of those silly names that celebrities like to use.”

 

And then…like a coward, Howard left him alone there, shell-shocked in a sea of homework and pencils and pens and Tony tried to draw air into his lungs but he could not. Suddenly, he felt terribly young, younger than fourteen and his eyes welled up with tears ruthlessly. Tony swallowed past the lump in his throat, a silent cry shaking him to his core as he slowly leaned forward and buried his face in his mattress to hide the emotion he couldn’t stop from spilling over.

 

A boy. A boy. A fucking boy…Another son to be tortured by the Stark line.

 

Tony hated himself for creating another kid for Howard to ruin.

 

…

 

 “A boy?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“You’re gonna be a dad…”

 

Tony rolled his eyes, irritation digging deeply as Rhodey repeated the same sentences over and over again. He gripped his coffee cup tightly below his hands as people bustled through the campus café, getting their drinks before they all went to suffer through their 8 A.M.s. Tony was still struggling to breathe properly after sobbing for hours the night before, silently into his pillow like some pre-teen girl in a drama. He felt embarrassed at the very thought of it, completely mortified. But he shoved it down…kept focusing on staying patient with his best friend, because the last thing he needed to do was to explode at Rhodey, his only real ally.

 

“You’ve known that for weeks now.”

 

Rhodey sighed, “Yeah but…I dunno, it’s different knowing it’s a boy. Now it feels a lot more real, it’s not just some…theoretical baby now, huh? And Howard is even letting you pick a name. Not going to lie, I’m shocked. I thought for sure he’d try to name your kid Howard II or some shit.”

 

Tony snorted at that, his misery still being able to appreciate his friend’s humor. He shook his head back and forth, narrowing his eyes slightly as he leaned back in the chair, “I would find a way to revolt against that. Never. But…I have no freakin’ clue what Imma call this kid. I mean, Dad is talking like I’m never even going to see him, so what’s the point?”

 

“Wait, wait, backtrack,” Rhodey waved his finger around, “Never see him?”

 

The same weight from the night before slammed into Tony’s chest and he felt his throat close up. Immediately he averted his gaze across the room, trying to keep the emotions down and shove and push and fight, but it felt so hard sometimes and Tony was drowning in a foreign dread that he didn’t feel old enough to handle. His hands were shaking, but he hadn’t slept, and he hadn’t eaten in at least a day…He was living off of caffeine and all the anxiety was making it so difficult to focus on the world surrounding him. It felt a lot like drowning in on himself…going under and under and under…

 

But his voice cracked, and he sounded teary when his eyes clouded over…

 

“We’re hiring help,” Tony croaked, “So my…my fucking kid can grow up as screwed as I was. Dad is acting like I’ll never even be able to touch him…and I gotta name this kid, I gotta name him, Rhodey, a real name – I didn’t even name my goldfish – It’s gotta be a good fucking name, man, I have to do that at least…I…”

 

Tony groaned in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes to stop the burning sensation there, “I’m _scared_.”

 

Rhodey leaned forward, reaching out a hand. He gripped Tony’s shoulder tightly, and Tony finally brought air back into his lungs to calm his racing heart. He needed to calm down, especially since they were sitting in public with people walking around and there was no telling who was watching him at that point with all the stuff in the media about him and Mary and the baby. People were everywhere…always watching him, but he supposed people had been watching him since he was old enough to walk. Old enough to be a prodigy.

 

“Tones,” Rhodey said, “I’m pretty sure it’s normal to be afraid of this. I mean, you’re only fourteen for Christ’s sake, and sure you’ll be fifteen by the time he gets here but still…it’s a lot for anyone to handle, and not only that, your dad expects a lot out of you with Stark Industries and…I just wish you’d stop being so hard on yourself.”

 

He paused, then finished, “You’ve got me, you know?”

 

Of course Tony knew that. Rhodey had been on his side since day one. And this entire situation was quite possibly the most fucked up thing Tony had found himself in the middle of, especially since it involved another human being that was completely innocent in his own screw ups and the abuse of his father. Tony nodded his head silently, unable to grasp words that were forming on the edge of his tongue like a curse. He imagined a child looking at him…looking at him the way he looked at Howard and the very notion of being anything like his dad made his stomach twist sickly. As if he was going to double over at any moment and empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor below him…

 

“I know,” Tony replied, “I’ve always known. You’re my best friend.”

 

Despite the age difference, Rhodey had never made Tony feel like he was on a lower field than him, and Tony was terribly grateful for such a thing. He supposed everyone needed a friend like Rhodey. A friend like Rhodey that would stand by them through anything, including a teen pregnancy saga that was saved for his mother’s gossip magazines. And yet he was there, living it, as the mother of his child was suffering the backlash for his omission of the truth. Tony felt irreversibly sorry.

 

He sighed deeply, looking at the time. It was nearing eight, and slowly he started to gather his books, nodding his head towards the door of the café, “Bio-chem starts soon, we should go if we don’t wanna get stuck in the spit-zone.”

 

Rhodey chuckled, but followed in suit with gathering his things and filling his backpack to the brim with text book after text book before the two of them were throwing their empty cups away and exiting the café together. The sun was bright, it certainly felt like spring and Tony tried to relish in it after such a miserable winter, but every time he realized they were inching closer to summer, his heart hammered relentlessly. There would be a new person in their apartment that summer, and the worst part was, there was no guarantee he would even get to be close to that person…But Tony wasn’t sure it was a good idea anyway…was he even okay to be around a baby? He would probably just mess him up, like he did everything else…

 

Maybe Howard was right.

 

Tony tried hard not to think about it as he crossed the campus, back pack slung over his shoulder and he ran a hand through his hair. He wished for it to be the weekend. To find a party to get wasted at. To stop worrying about tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and a kid that he was probably never going to get to see grow up. Except from a distance, because his father just had to have his hand in everything. This baby wasn’t his…never would be, and Tony was quickly losing faith in his ability to do this, to make these decisions…He couldn’t.

 

The moment they walked into the large glass building in which their class was held, Tony felt something was off in the air. It was like an uneasiness, but Rhodey didn’t seem to feel it as he continued on to their class. A group of other students however, rounded the corner at the exact same time that they did, and everyone skidded to a stop, surprise on their faces. Tony’s brain took a moment to catch up as he realized these were more students from his class and he wondered why they would be leaving…

 

“Oh…” Rhodey sounded just as confused, “Was class cancelled?”

 

The tallest boy with bright red hair shook his head, “No, we just heard…Radcliffe got put on leave…no idea what for, but saves our asses from that quiz today, yeah?”

 

They stepped around both Rhodey and Tony, returning to the conversation they were having amongst themselves. Tony felt an immediate drop in his stomach and he nearly swayed on his feet at the thought that crashed through his head like a ton of bricks. It shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but it was, digging teeth into his skin and drawing blood relentlessly. He swallowed and Rhodey hummed, “Weird…great, but weird…you wanna go wait in the library until the next class?”

 

Tony couldn’t speak, so he nodded his head.

 

Something in the back of his mind screamed this was yet again…Howard reaching his arm where it didn’t belong.


	4. Fifteen Going on Fifty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Peter,” Tony stated in finality, “His name is Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY, I accidentally posted this to The Missing 92 Days like a freakin idiot...But anyway, I've had three tests this week, my brain is fried. I hope you enjoy anyway!

It was the Friday after his fifteenth birthday that Tony came home from school, just happy to be free of classes for the next two days.

 

Life was fairly normal…had been _very_ normal really. A forced reality, pushed upon him by Howard because the things that weren’t normal were made to be ignored. Topics like the baby, or about Professor Radcliffe going on leave. Weeks had passed since then, and still, no one had any idea where he went, but a new teacher had taken his place. A teacher that absolutely adored anything Tony said, and there was something unnerving in that. Radcliffe had been irritating, sure, in his judgement and his counter assaults, but hell…he had treated Tony like a normal student. That was hard to come by…Because of Howard. And Howard had somehow infiltrated MIT and Tony could only feel there was something super illegal about that.

 

Being fifteen proved to not be much different than being fourteen. He didn’t get to go out though, he supposed his parents were worried he’d go out and make more problems for them…The whole pregnancy scandal was still front-page news. Sometimes Tony noticed people lurking on campus with cameras, but they were always chased off relatively quickly. Tony had a feeling his dad had hired people to follow him around…to make sure no one got close. Sometimes he didn’t understand Howard, it was as if no one else was allowed to make Tony’s life miserable except for him. It almost seemed hypocritical, like he wanted to keep him safe but…no one was keeping him safe from Howard, and didn’t Howard see how cruel he could be?

 

The day got decidedly less normal when Tony entered the penthouse, making his way through the foyer. The only things he noticed that were off was the sound of voices down the hall and the smell of fresh paint. Tony tilted his head, dropping his backpack onto the living room couch before he slowly made his way towards the noise. Well, not exactly noise, but for a home that was usually completely silent, it was weird. Tony had learned from a young age not to make too much noise. As his mother used to whisper in his ear, “Daddy is working…Don’t want to distract him, he’s building the whole world.”

 

Tony knew now, his father was not building the whole world. But when he was smaller, he would dream of that pretend city his father used to have on a table. The future. Sometimes he wondered how his mother could be so optimistic and loving towards a man who barely noticed them. He supposed maybe she truly believed in Howard. Maybe that was what love was, but Tony had never experienced such a thing. He pretended not to. He thought…the only people in his life he truly cared for were his mother and Rhodey.

 

Tony rounded the corner into the bedroom at the very end of the hall. It was one of the guest rooms, and Tony was pretty sure he had never even been inside of it. There were people moving around, the curtains to the giant French windows were drawn back. Men were painting, the walls were a soft blue color with clouds being added near the ceiling. Tony almost choked on his saliva…Furniture was being put together, tiny furniture, a book shelf…A pile of books was lying in the corner and Tony felt his heart begin to pound as he found his mother standing with her arms crossed over her chest, observing the work that was being done to the room. She had a serene look on her face, as usual and Tony approached quickly, strides taking him towards her in a few seconds flat.

 

“Mom,” Tony breathed out a shocked whisper, “What’s…what’s going on?”

 

As if the white crib wasn’t a dead giveaway. But Tony still felt a perplexing feeling bubbling up like a disease. Almost like vomit, but he wasn’t about to throw up on the clean rug under his feet. His mother smiled at him, reaching out and taking his chin as she greeted, “You’re home! I was hoping to surprise you, but we got a little behind schedule. Your dad took too long to leave for the office and he never would have approved of me spending money on something like this – “

 

“What _is_ it?” Tony attempted to clarify, allowing his mother to pinch his face.

 

She gestured towards the room in general, “Just something for the baby. I know you dad has been…unforthcoming about everything. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. While the situation may not be ideal, I won’t have my grandchild coming into a house with a boring white-walled nursery.”

 

A nursery. His mother was building the baby a nursery. Tony swallowed thickly, eyes darting around the room, and he could see it more clearly now. The clouds, the blue, the crib, a shelf and baby books, and even a changing table. His hands started to tremble slightly, and he bit down on his lower lip to fight an anxiety he didn’t understand. Because sure…it was hard for him when his dad wouldn’t acknowledge the baby. It made it seem like some vague thing hurling towards him in the future, but his mother talking to freely about it…Creating a bedroom for the baby…it was startling. A contrast that dipped him below freezing waves in an ocean owned by Howard and Maria. And Tony owned nothing. Not even the baby.

 

“I d-didn’t…” Tony struggled to get the sentence out, “I didn’t know we were making one.”

 

Maria laughed, sounding disbelieving, but her eyes held a sort of empathy, or pity, “Of course, honey…The baby needs a room.”

 

Tony blinked over and over again, trying to get everything to process in his mind. He turned slowly, moving towards the changing table where a large box sat beside it. The wood was painted white, it looked almost antique. The cushion was still wrapped in clear plastic though, and Tony peered down into the box, that seemed to be filled with an assortment of random items. Tony tilted his head, reaching in and pulling out a small onesie. It had tiny blue teddy bears on it, and the front was soft. Tony whirled to look at his mother, his face almost horrified.

 

“Will he really be this small?”

 

Maria looked at the onesie in his hands and she chuckled, “Well, _you_ were. That’s your old stuff.”

 

Tony could hardly believe it. A human being… _that_ small. There was something terrifying in that realization and Tony gulped past the lump in his throat before he spoke again, “Mom?”

 

She was still looking at him, still smiling at his complete and utter confusion over how tiny a baby could be. She looked fond really, and Tony wondered how she could, knowing her fifteen-year-old was going to be a father. A part of him supposed she knew there were worse things in the world. She had dealt with awful stuff from Howard. From the company and the press. It was stitching together…a terrible force of terror, but she could not see it. Tony continued, “I’ll get to like…see the baby…right? And hold him?”

 

The amusement melted, more so into concern. She tilted her head and asked, “Of course…why wouldn’t you?”

 

“Dad said we’re hiring help,” Tony answered.

 

The onesie was squeezed between his fingers when his mother got quiet, contemplation settling into her face. Maybe she had forgotten about that. Or about Howard. About his fierceness and his need to control everything. She let out a low sigh, and shook her head, “Your father is just protective of you. He doesn’t want you to fall behind in school, so we’re going to hire someone to get up with the baby at night and stay with him during the day while you’re busy.”

 

“But that’s basically everything,” Tony breathed, sounding…well, he wasn’t sure how he sounded. To himself, he sounded hurt…almost afraid as he went on, “If someone is feeding him all night and all day, I’ll-I’ll be just some guy who comes in and holds him for like twenty minutes before I leave again. I don’t want him thinking some nanny is his parent.”

 

Maria tsked, “He won’t think that.”

 

“Why not?” Tony snapped, face burning, “I did.”

 

He immediately regretted the words when a look of hurt flashed over his mother’s eyes. Tony watched them glaze over slowly, an abyss sinking in as she swallowed and looked down at the floor, arms crossed over her chest as she built that barricade. A way she did when Howard would say something hurtful…and Tony hated doing anything that even remotely resembled Howard. For a second, he had wanted it to sting, but being hurtful to his only ally in his house wasn’t a wise decision. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, body filling with dread.

 

“Mom, I’m sorry.”

 

She looked at him once more, “It’s fine, amore. I’m going to go make a few phone calls. Your dentist appointment is coming up, yes?”

 

It was an excuse. Just an excuse to step out, but Tony didn’t stop her as she went. He resisted the urge to slam his head into the wall, but he doubted he should do that in front of the people painting his baby’s bedroom. His baby…God, that was horrifying. Tony turned around, dropping the onesie back into the box of his old stuff. His eyes lingered a few more moments, studying everything within as he contemplated emptying it out, or getting rid of it completely. He didn’t know if he wanted his kid to have his old stuff. He felt like the best bet was to start fresh, a brand new human being. Tony didn’t want his kid to be anything like him. At fifteen, his self-hatred was that of an eighty-year-old who let his life drone on with hate in his heart.

 

He dug through a moment, and at the bottom of the brown box was a colorful children’s book with art adorning the cover. Tony tilted his head, a familiar warmth covering him as he recognized it and pulled it out of the box. It was a bit dusty, and he used his hand to clean it off the cover. Somewhere in the depths of his mind he knew at some point it had probably been even more vibrant than it was then, but Tony hadn’t seen the book in so long he couldn’t be sure. The memory clung, with nails, sharp in the back of his skull and he swallowed rather thickly.

 

_Peter Pan_

It wasn’t the thick book he had been forced to read a few years back. It was much more simplified. Back in the days of his nannies, and rarely seeing his father and his mother working constantly. His father hadn’t taken much of an interest in tiny Tony. He was an infant, after all, there was nothing very interesting in that. Chubby fingers couldn’t build circuit boards, or receive any sort of praise, not that it had ever come anyway. Tony flipped it over, before opening it to the blank white page in the front of the book.

 

There his hand was traced out in pen, small and short.

 

_Tony Stark – three yrs._

Below it was written:

 

_Mommy loves you, my sweet._

Tony shut his eyes tightly to stop the burning.

 

Maybe his father was right…he was stupid.

 

…

 

There was no deep conversation or a moment of forgiveness. Starks didn’t generally deal with the _aftermath_ in such ways.

 

Instead Tony and his mother fell back into themselves, as if the words had never been exchanged in the first place. Tony mostly did so because he was forced to get dressed in a suit and go to dinner with his parents and several men and their wives from Stark Industries. Tony knew he would be the only teenager there, but Howard never missed an opportunity to parade Tony around when it was convenient for him. Tony’s silent apology to his mother was not fighting his father tooth and nail to go, and he just got dressed without much convincing, putting on his suit and tie to go suffer for the remainder of the night.

 

Their dinners consisted of cigars and wine. Always. With obnoxious laughing and the women covering their mouths to giggle before gossiping about other people’s wives. The men were just as bad, talking about Jet or John or Jim. Whoever came to mind. Whoever had invested in something and lost all of their money. And Tony was sure if Howard hadn’t been in attendance, Tony and his unborn child would have been a subject that flitted across the table a time or two. Maybe that was why his dad had been so adamant they go…he couldn’t stand his ears burning for the entire evening while sitting in his at-home office.

 

Tony wasn’t allowed to smoke or drink of course. Which made tolerating this whole mess of high society much more difficult. He supposed one day he could drink to his heart’s content and completely disassociate from everything there. He would never be the asshole to bring his kid to something so dreadful, but then again, if Howard decided he was never going to leave them alone, would Tony even have the choice? He couldn’t see being eighteen, being able to run away, because even then, the company would be held over his head. The threat of disowning, but Tony was the only heir, so what the fuck was Howard going to do to him?

 

Take his baby somehow.

 

Tony wouldn’t be surprised if he figured out a way to do even that.

 

He sat still, between both of his parents, staring at the salmon on his plate. He had eaten some of it, but dinners like that, where courses were coming out every few minutes, Tony could hardly stuff himself anymore. So he picked like a bird, tried to drown everyone out. The only time he had been acknowledged was when some guy…must have been important because his father had smacked him on the shoulder to speed up his answer…had asked about MIT. Tony had replied with all good things. He was making straight As, after all…He left out the part about not sleeping, and his father practically forcing caffeine into his system while simultaneously hiding it from Maria.

 

No one asked about the baby. Why would they?

 

Even if they dared, his father would probably cut their head off or something with a butter knife. Which would not end well, they didn’t need such a scene, not when this was obviously some kind of business dinner and Tony was sure his dad would find some way to blame it on him. Either way, he sat very still, not looking up very often unless his mother or father asked or said something to him. Tony was better seen, not heard, in such situations and the same went for the middle-aged women who would squeeze his cheeks and tell his mother how adorable he was, and comment on his dark eyelashes. His mother would take credit for such attributes and it was funny, because they’d almost always say he looked more like Howard which Tony hated. He didn’t want any pieces of Howard.

 

Tony hoped the baby looked like Mary or maybe Maria…not like the Starks.

 

He figured he had been thinking of the baby a lot in the past few hours, more than he had in the weeks building up to the nursery being put together. He wondered why, nauseously, he didn’t want to think too much about the baby, because if he did that, he would want to ask questions. Asking questions just made his father angry, and Tony didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that. He had no desire for it. After what happened to Radcliffe, it felt…unnerving.

 

“C’mon Howard, you’ve got to retire someday,” One of the guys said, the one directly in front of his dad, his hair slicked back almost sickeningly, “Maybe in the next six years, yeah? When your boy makes it to twenty-one. Then you can finally come golfing at our place.”

 

Howard hummed, chuckling just a bit and Tony tried to decipher it. He looked at his father with almost a glint of fear. Twenty-one…twenty-one and running Stark Industries? He couldn’t do that. He wasn’t even close to being ready for that and twenty-one didn’t seem even close to the age he needed to be…in retrospect though…he was fifteen and he was going to have a kid in a few months, but half the time he hated the idea of running the company. He couldn’t imagine such an opinion changing in the next few years. It was like cold water shooting up his spine when his dad finally answered…

 

“I’ll think about it, Archibald. Trust me, I consider it more than you think.”

 

Tony felt like that had to be a lie. He doubted his father considered it as much as he insisted. The man wouldn’t survive being retired, not having people to follow and clean up after. Even if he did, he would still hover over Tony. Tony was never going to escape, the company would never really be his. Life was a long list of nevers that seemed to follow him. As he was falling into that deep dark epiphany that had taken a hold of him in the dimness of the restaurant, several flashes from the dark windows near the front entrance distracted him.

 

He blinked, seeing black dots for a moment before his eyes focused and bright flashes continued to litter the restaurant. Other people around them began to turn and look and what the commotion was about, but it only took Tony a moment to realize what was happening outside. His mother turned back towards his father with a bleak expression on her face and when Tony whirled towards the man, his soul almost abandoned him because of how angry Howard looked. It was only lucky that it wasn’t aimed towards Tony, but towards the paparazzi outside…

 

And Tony knew why they were there…why they were taking pictures.

 

His dad had been careful about where Tony was allowed to go. Campus, then home, campus, then home. Tony hadn’t been exposed to the full reality of the press. His father let out a deep sigh, dropping his napkin onto the table as he pushed himself away, grabbing hold of Tony’s arm in the process. The grip was tight, not threatening, but too strong as he pulled upward and Tony barely had time to situate himself before he was yanked to his feet. His mother followed in suit, like a bunch of Stark robots, but the looks the other people at the table were giving him were all rather…empathetic, surprisingly. The man with the smoothed down hair gave Tony an understanding glance.

 

“So sorry, son,” He stated, and Tony almost always cringed when anyone called him son, “I had my own scandal a few years ago…they happen. It’s a part of having power, I’m afraid. Everyone wants a piece. Luckily you’ve got your pops there to handle it.”

 

Tony fought the urge to laugh in the man’s face. Lucky? Hardly. If it wasn’t for his father, his baby could have a relatively normal life. One with a different family, a mother and a father raising him. But instead, Mary’s right to choose had been taken away. She couldn’t put the baby up for adoption because of Howard. Because of his paranoia. And so the baby was going to be raised with a fifteen-year-old father and an aggressive grandfather. But instead of fanning all of that for the whole table to hear, Tony simply looked away, and his father pulled.

 

Howard excused them while he did so. An apology, and all that. Tony could only imagine the kind of gossip they’d enjoy once they were gone, but he kept his mouth shut and continued to walk as his dad pulled him along towards the entrance, his mother eventually taking hold of his other arm. When Howard did release him, it was to let the guy standing at the door know that someone needed to inform their driver to pull up to the curb…Just so they wouldn’t have long to walk in front of the paparazzi.

 

Tony knew his mother’s hands were meant to be comforting, but the lights flashing into the restaurant, drawing attention to them drowned it out and he felt more smothered than anything. His chest was hardly expanding, but eventually the car pulled up and they were allowed to escape, only for him to be blinded the moment they walked out into the night. The car was only a few feet away, but the photographers made it nearly impossible for them to reach it. A chorus of voices met them, and Tony could hardly make out what was being shouted towards him…

 

“Anthony! Anthony, have you heard anything else about the baby!?”

 

“Are you going to be finishing school!?”

 

“Is it true Mary Fitzpatrick manipulated you!?”

 

Tony whirled at that question, eyes wide, and his mother tugged on him because the car was right there, but God…God he couldn’t just walk away and let them keep viewing Mary as some kind of villain. She was a human being, a human being he hadn’t been transparent with. Tony swallowed thickly, looking at the source of the question and he argued through a shaky voice, “Mary didn’t – “

 

“Anthony, _enough_ ,” His father grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Tony practically fell into the seat, his mother already waiting there for him before his dad climbed in and sat in the row of seats in front of the two of them. The door slammed shut, the cameras continuing to light up the back of the vehicle before they pulled away and began their journey home…

 

Tony’s hands were shaking, even though his mother was holding one of them. Howard leaned back in the chair and shut his eyes, “Vultures.”

 

Vultures. Yeah…must have been so awful to have _such_ an inconvenience. While also simultaneously telling the world Mary was practically Satan. Tony’s hand turned to a fist, he fought the urge to surge forward and slam it into his dad’s face but he was too much of a coward to do it. He was too afraid. So he just bit his lip, and blinked away the tears pooling in his eyes. Frustrated, angry tears. His mother must have noticed, because she continued to hold his hand, and shushed him softly, “Shhhh, amore. It’s _fine_.”

 

Unfortunately, that called the attention of his father. Howard looked at him, eyes opening. His dad studied him, silently…Maybe not annoyed, but taking him in. He could probably see the rage building, the want to scream at his father for being so selfish and only thinking about them, but not the mother of his kid that was going to exist in just a few months. The target of these attacks. Tony might have been the target of the media, but Mary…his father had lied. Had twisted it, just as he had planned to do from the beginning and Tony could hardly breathe past the ache in his chest.

 

When Howard said nothing, but stared at him like he was daring him to be angry…Tony just looked away. Finally, and he made eye contact with his mother, swallowing the tears and he spoke, ignoring his dad almost completely, “I’m fine, Mom. I’m sure Dad has his reasons for lying to the press.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t miss the way his father leaned forward slightly in the seat. Tony still didn’t look at him though and he continued, “He’s been so busy doing that I haven’t had time to tell you two the baby’s name.”

 

It was more out of spite than anything…why he would say it. A show of power, of dominance almost because he was naming _his_ kid. If his dad wanted to control everything else, if he wanted to hover, if he wanted to treat Tony and Mary like absolute shit, fine. But Tony was picking the damned name. And in that moment, it felt like the only way to fight back.

 

“Peter,” Tony stated in finality, “His name is Peter.”

 

Tony looked at his dad in defiance. He dared him to argue. Because his fist was still closed, begging to make contact. His father’s face was largely unchanged, as stoic as ever. He said nothing, but Maria rubbed Tony’s shoulder and she said, “I think that’s a very good name. It sounds sweet, like a nice little boy…Right Howard?”

 

Maybe now she was daring him too. But it seemed more like she was trying to diffuse Tony.

 

Howard slowly straightened his shoulders, adding some height, and even though they were sitting he was looking down at Tony. His answer shocked Tony, and he supposed he had hoped for an argument…had hoped to be able to scream and kick and shout that the baby – Peter – was his to name. But maybe his dad knew that…he was always confusing Tony, doing what Tony least expected and least wanted.

 

“That’s a _surprisingly_ adult name.”

 

Tony ground his teeth together.

 

Howard would always search for the last jab.


	5. Baby Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning sun had begun to gleam in through a large window, the curtains drawn back. There was an empty hospital bed in the room with dark wood floors, feeling cozy, but in the corner of the room was a woman in scrubs. She was standing over a small…container? A basket? Tony didn’t know the word for it, but he knew one thing very, very vividly. 
> 
> There was something inside of it.

Tony was woken on August tenth at 5:33 in the morning.

 

It wasn’t a normal day.

 

He snorted awake, sitting up immediately as a hand shook his shoulder. Not viciously, but stern and Tony struggled to get his eyes to adjust to the light in the room, the flood-bulb having been flipped on at some point in his sleep. The sun had yet to come up over the horizon though and as his mind caught up Tony realized it was his father standing over him. The man was fully dressed, there were rarely times when Tony saw him outside of a business suit. He was standing over Tony, maybe a bit of impatience on his face, but it mostly appeared passive as he gave one simple order, breaking the complete and utter silence in the room.

 

“Get dressed.”

 

There was no further explanation. His father simply turned and started walking towards the door, hardly giving Tony a second glance. Tony’s chest stuttered with sudden anxiety and confusion, mind trying to make sense of the situation. As to why he was being woken up, why he had to get dressed all of a sudden. He shifted on the mattress, mind trying to connect, and he blinked over and over again. He wanted to ask, but questions were usually met with such disdain and Tony wondered if he had forgotten about something, but he couldn’t remember and so the words left his mouth.

 

He asked, “What’s going on?”

 

His father stopped in the doorway, looking back at him with a clinical expression. The one Tony often saw when his dad was speaking with employees and in the meetings Tony was dragged to when he had to learn something about the company. He shifted, uncomfortable as he waited for his dad to explain but what he said wasn’t what Tony expected and he didn’t know how he couldn’t have even thought of it because it was quite possibly one of the most important things in the entire world – and suddenly Tony was terrified.

 

“We’re going to the hospital. The baby was born an hour ago.”

 

The baby. The hypothetical baby that they had been avoiding the topic of for months. Since January when they had found out. Tony felt a lump form in his throat, choking him, and Tony’s brows tugged together in a sense of panic. An hour ago…the baby was born an hour ago, and they were still there, and his father was only _just_ waking him up to go to the hospital. Which meant the baby had been alone in the world for an hour…because there was no doubt in his mind his father had probably ordered that baby to be taken from Mary the moment he had entered the world and there was something deeply disturbing about that.

 

The kid had only just been born, but Tony was already letting him down…Letting Howard dictate their actions.

 

Before he could even begin to defend the child though, his father had disappeared from the room. And so Tony opted to get up and dress himself, a sense of urgency taking hold. His hands were shaking, and he felt sick to his stomach, like vomit was moments away from rising up his throat and God…God he was so fucking scared. A part of him didn’t want to go to the hospital at all…to face the reality of the situation. But then he decided that was something a fifteen-year-old would think and he probably couldn’t be just a regular fifteen-year-old without punishing another human being.

 

It didn’t feel real…it felt like…it felt like something that was still figurative. A baby for the nursery, but not existing in the real world. Tony had gone so long without seeing Mary, he hadn’t gotten the chance to adjust to the idea very much because it was never brought up in those many months that had passed. Everything had been centered around MIT and the company, and his father’s demands to stay focused. Only a handful of occasions had the baby been discussed and it was almost always with Rhodey.

 

But now he was expected to go to the hospital and pick up his baby.

 

_His_ baby.

 

Fifteen-year-olds were barely trusted to keep a bag of flour alive, let alone an actual infant. And even though Tony knew his father was going to hire people to watch the baby…he was still highly against the idea. He didn’t know the first thing about even holding a baby…but the thought of someone else taking his place well, it triggered every selfish portion in his brain. The ones from childhood, when a kid in his class would have something he wanted, or when someone’s father actually showed them an ounce of affection, and he didn’t want his baby viewing a nanny as his parent.

 

Not much was said as he was leaving his room…when he found his mother and father waiting for him. When his mother wrapped an arm around his shoulder and tried to smile comfortingly, but Tony couldn’t meet her gaze, because truthfully he was ashamed of the situation he had brought them to. Also, there was something else he was terribly ashamed of. Despite being so terrified…terrified of being a baby’s father, or his father controlling everything concerning the child, there was the awful part that was…glad he would no longer be alone in their house. Because ultimately the baby had to be his. And because of that, it was not Howard’s.

 

Tony had always kind of judged lonely people for having babies just to be less lonely. They weren’t playthings. But suddenly, Tony was one of those people.

 

His mother held his hand, in the car. Maybe he wouldn’t have, but she insisted, and he had a feeling she was afraid too. It made him feel worse, and he wondered if there were people in the world who were happy to meet their babies. He was sure, most movies seemed to be that way, but Tony felt heavy, and he imagined Mary had felt that way too…Knowing she wasn’t going to get to give her baby the life she wanted him to have with two loving parents, because of Howard. Because of his selfishness, and then Tony had the frightening realization that maybe he was like his father for the thoughts earlier.

 

He didn’t want to be like his father, and so he gripped his mother’s hand tighter.

 

“Have they said anything?” His mother questioned his father, tilting her head slightly, “The baby…is he healthy? Did everything go smoothly?”

 

Howard looked away from the darkened city. The sun still hadn’t come up.

 

“Everything went fine, from what I understand,” Howard cleared his throat, “They say the baby is a little on the small side, but not underweight. Came into the world screaming.”

 

Tony swallowed thickly. Didn’t they all?

 

Tony felt like he was still screaming.

 

The hand around his squeezed tighter. Tony didn’t look at his mom, just turned to stare out the window like his father had been doing, until they pulled up to the hospital. Tony wanted to hesitate, when getting out of the car, but his parents weren’t hesitant at all, and he wondered how they weren’t terrified of the situation they were in. Tony was slowly sinking into madness, the moment they entered the main lobby and made their way to the front desk. It was almost completely silent in the building, small sounds echoing off the walls and Tony’s mother finally released his hand, so he could breathe again, he wasn’t so crowded into himself. But the hospital smelled like cleaner and it made it hard to focus on where he was and what was happening.

 

Right. The baby.

 

His father leaned close to the receptionist and whispered something that Tony couldn’t hear. He didn’t try to. He was still working through the terror of what was going on, but the woman’s eyes widened and she nodded her head dutifully, picking up the phone. His dad turned and faced them, looking at his mother before Howard explained, “Doctor Knight is on his way.”

 

“Doctor Knight?” Tony whispered.

 

“He delivered the baby,” Howard replied, voice blunt, “He’s been corresponding with our lawyers, working on a gag-order for everyone involved.”

 

Tony’s brows pulled downward and he scoffed, “A gag-order? Really?”

 

“Don’t pretend you understand everything that goes into something like this,” Howard was suddenly sharp, no longer rounded at the edges. Tony glared icily as the man went on, “Its been all I’ve dealt with the past nine months of our lives, so you might try showing some gratitude.”

 

Tony gripped his hands into fists, “The baby isn’t a secret, the press knows.”

 

 “The press knows what I want them to know.”

 

Tony fell silent, dread creeping up as he pondered on what that could mean. His stomach twisted into knots, and he wrung his hands together before looking down at the ground. He didn’t know what to say to that, as anger filtered, but he couldn’t lose his mind in the middle of the hospital…in front of everyone. Especially not when they were about to take him to a kid that he was still wondering even existed.

 

Tony buried it deep down, swallowing the questions, wondering and unable to hold onto the rationale that his father might would be different there in the hospital. It wasn’t real, Howard was never going to change, not even for the kid that was coming to live with them, so Tony was just going to have to face that and get through the next several hours until he could figure out exactly what was going on behind his back. He jumped when a voice called from a few feet away down the hallway, “Mister Stark!”

 

Tony finally lifted his head. From the mouth of the hallway was a man in a white coat and scrubs and Tony could only imagine he was the doctor. He was smiling at Tony’s dad and it startled Tony to remember that usually babies being born was happy, wasn’t it? And he wished his kid had a better welcoming party, as the doctor held out a hand for Howard to shake. Howard did so, his usual ‘business’ smile gracing his lips. Nothing genuine. Tony had seen his real smile on a few occasions. It was actually Tony’s smile.

 

He hoped it wasn’t the baby’s.

 

“Let me start off with a congratulations,” Doctor Knight was much too chipper…Much too happy for the situation where lawyers were involved, along with the press, and gag-orders and everything else. He went on, “A healthy bouncing-baby-boy, I’m sure you’ll be pleased.”

 

God, it sounded like a fucking business deal. Tony fought the urge to ask his father how much he was paying the doctor under the table. How much his baby cost them. They were buying this baby, there was no doubt in Tony’s mind, which was completely and utterly illegal if he thought correctly. You couldn’t buy a person…even if the person was a grandson. In a split second, his dad had made the decision that the baby was coming to be with them…for the protection of the company from blood that didn’t understand the innerworkings. Tony stepped aside as Doctor Knight shook his mother’s hand, but Tony was ignored…even if he was the father…the acknowledgment never came.

 

Howard’s voice was business-like, “I appreciate it, Robert. I do hope everything went smoothly, as the rest of this process. I assume the lawyers are waiting for us?”

 

Doctor Knight stepped aside and gestured for the door, “Yes, they’re in the maternity ward already. I’ll take you all to meet the little-guy, then we can start the signatures.”

 

Tony didn’t know what he was expecting, but actually meeting the baby…well, it slapped him in the face. The whole idea of it. It snuck up on him like a surprise, even though they were literally in the hospital to meet him. He followed his parents and the doctor, he felt completely invisible to them, as they took the elevator up and down corridor after corridor. Tony felt like he was in some sort of tunnel, he could hardly hear, as if he was underwater as his parents talked to Doctor Knight, casually, like the biggest day of Tony’s life wasn’t happening right in front of him. Tony sucked in gulp after gulp, hoping somewhere deep down that this was a dream. That he’d wake up. That he’d have nine more months to prepare for what was happening.

 

But then, there was no more time.

 

It stopped, and there they were…outside of an open door.

 

The morning sun had begun to gleam in through a large window, the curtains drawn back. There was an empty hospital bed in the room with dark wood floors, feeling cozy, but in the corner of the room was a woman in scrubs. She was standing over a small…container? A basket? Tony didn’t know the word for it, but he knew one thing very, very vividly.

 

There was something inside of it.

 

And Tony supposed, the baby had been real the whole time.

 

No one really said anything. Tony hadn’t been expecting them to, but when he looked at his mom, he was silently asking for permission to go forward. She nodded her head. Her smiles was lopsided, as if she was hurt, and he knew it had to be sad…when a fifteen-year-old was a father, it wasn’t what she had wanted for him. But it was what was happening. When someone had to ask their mother for permission to approach their own baby, it was young. Tony didn’t look at his father, or Doctor Knight. He was almost terrified his dad wouldn’t let him, so if he never asked, there could be no denial from the infant.

 

So Tony approached, jaw set, hands held tightly at his sides.

 

The nurse was smiling, maybe she was the only one doing so genuinely. Tony leaned over the container? God, he needed to know what it was called, it wasn’t a crib. It was plastic around the edges, and as he loomed over it…He saw what lay inside. It was like a rush of air went up his spine and Tony felt his vision blur around the edges, though he didn’t think he was crying. He couldn’t be. Truthfully, he felt more terrified than anything. Shaky and unsteady on his feet. The sun was getting bright, clawing over the floor…

 

It made the side of the baby’s face glow.

 

The baby.

 

His baby.

 

It – his eyes were closed, swaddled tightly in a white blanket. His fingers were pulled close to his face, and Tony had never seen a newborn before…but he wasn’t ugly like he had been told newborns were. He was tiny, tinier than any human Tony had ever seen. Curled up into himself, asleep, as if he hadn’t just gone through the biggest moment of his life: being born. Being born a Stark. A grandson of Howard Stark, and what that entailed for his life. A future of trial, of public scandal, of judgement and Tony had never felt sorry for a baby, but he felt sorry for that baby. His mind whirled as he stared, as his chest tightened and his hands shook and God, he couldn’t imagine ever letting Howard hurt him.

 

Tony couldn’t imagine hurting him. Striking him, the way his dad had struck him the night he had found out about the baby right in front of him. And as terrifying as that baby was – Peter…Tony supposed he needed to get used to that name – Tony had to protect him. The warmth and horror intermixed, if such a thing was possible but the horror only intensified when he heard the nurse question…

 

“Would you like to hold him?”

 

Tony’s head whipped in her direction and he started to shake his head, “No – I…I don’t think I…”

 

He looked back at his mother, fear blooming. She approached, placing a hand on Tony’s arm, squeezing as the nurse stepped aside to make room for Maria. She ordered softly, releasing Tony as she began to reach inside the bed, “Look, honey…”

 

“No – Mom, wait,” Tony tried, but she was already lifting the baby. His little hands stretched out in response to being moved, but his eyes didn’t open. He didn’t wake up, his body only reacted to the reflex. Tony didn’t even get the chance to admire the tiniest of movements that he – Peter – made before his mother was beginning to push him towards his chest. Tony’s hands rose on instinct, eyes wide, but his mother was shushing him.

 

“See, you gotta hold his head up,” She navigated his arm to do so, the other being pulled to wrap around the baby’s lower half. Suddenly, she released him fully and then, for the first time in Tony’s entire existence, he was holding a baby…a newborn, at that. His hands had returned to pressing to his cheeks, his eyes still weren’t open, but he let out small sounds that Tony had never heard a baby make before, until he fell completely silent.

 

Tony’s eyes burned, but he blinked. He blinked and blinked because his father was in the room. Cautiously, he looked away from Peter’s face, towards the man…And for once, maybe for the first time, his dad was quiet. He said nothing. No criticism. No hate spewing. In fact, his dad looked startled by the situation, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His body was stiff, as he watched and if Tony hadn’t known better, he would have thought he saw softness…just for a split second, before it dissipated almost completely.

 

The baby had just been…forced into his arms. It sounded wrong, to think of it like that, but also, that was what it was. He jumped slightly when his dad gestured for Maria to come towards him, saying, “We need to go get the papers signed.”

 

His mother moved away, and Tony’s heart immediately started to race. He was being left alone, in the room with the baby. Even if the nurse was there, Tony still felt fear. He opened his mouth, and croaked weakly, “W-wait – “

 

Maria looked back at him, reassuring, “We’ll be right back.”

 

Tony was used to being abandoned by adults, but he hadn’t realized that right after being handed his newborn, he would be abandoned once more in favor of hiding the darkness that surrounded his child’s existence for the legality issues of it all. Because Mary, because he was fifteen, because of his stupidity, and suddenly they were filing out…the nurse was letting him sit on the edge of the bed in the room, adjusting his arms to a new position because Tony was so afraid Peter was going to shatter in his hold if he even so much as breathed the wrong way.

 

And Tony sat there…Peter in his arms, staring at his slumbering face.

 

He was so scared, because he wasn’t sure he would survive Howard hurting this kid.

 

Howard wouldn’t survive either…if Tony had to choose.

 

…

 

Eventually the nurse left too.

 

It was just Peter and Tony.

 

Peter did very little. Occasionally, he would make small noises. But other than that, his eyes remained closed and his arms were curled close. Tony hardly moved where he sat on the bed, and his muscles ached from sitting so still. His mind could only focus on the baby’s face. On the fact that he looked like one of those dolls the girl in the apartment below theirs always carried around. He had a tuff of hair on his head, and it stuck out at odd places. With a hesitant hand, Tony reached upward and smoothed it down, thinking the boy would shatter under the caress.

 

“I’m sorry about all of this, you know…” Tony whispered, voice sounding much younger than he remembered being, younger than fifteen, “I didn’t mean to…well, anyway, I’m just warning you now. Howard fucking sucks.”

 

He paused. Was he supposed to curse in front of a baby?

 

Tony sighed deeply, shutting his eyes. Moments ticked by, quickly, then slowly and his heart kept palpitating in his chest as he tried to process the situation. Peter had been born. The sun had come up, August tenth was the baby’s birthday. The baby had a name. Tony had yet to see a birth certificate. Or see Mary. Or see his mother and father for what had felt like forever. Tony swallowed, looking at Peter’s face once more, as he slid the knuckle of his index finger along the baby’s cheek.

 

“I’m also sorry…if they took you from her,” Tony continued on, “Mary didn’t want this for you, and I didn’t – I didn’t either, kid.”

 

It felt weird to call someone kid when he was just fifteen himself. He sighed, “I probably won’t see you a lot. Just ‘cause of who Howard is as a shitty father – “ another curse word, “ – but…I dunno, I’ll try. I’m just not…”

 

His face burned, voice cracking. Tony bit his tongue so hard he swore it bled. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to bring the kid home with him. To be a dad. He didn’t even know how to be a human being, let alone take care of one for the rest of his life. His hands started to shake, so much he worried the baby was trembling under them. Tony looked at the ceiling, fighting the emotions down as he hissed, “Fuck – “

 

Tony jumped suddenly when he heard the baby let out an odd sound. One he hadn’t heard before. Tony’s head whipped downward, and maybe he had been too loud, or he had talked too much, had broken the quiet too many times…But suddenly, for the first time, two round orbs were squinting at him. Brows were pulled downward, and the baby looked different…more knowing, when he was awake. No longer oblivious to the life he was about to be brought into. Tony watched on with horror as the baby’s perplexed expression scrunched, and slowly but surely, his cheeks turned pink. Little hands squished into fists and the baby let out a tiny little whine.

 

“No, no, no,” Tony tensed, but another one of the whines escaped. It was then followed by an inhale on the baby’s part, and the whine turned into a high-pitched cry. Tony cringed heavily, standing from the bed almost immediately, and he looked at the baby-bed a few feet away, but he wasn’t sure if he should put the baby down if he was crying. Tony just felt…scared. God, he was fucking terrified.

 

He turned, moving towards the hallway. He didn’t know what he intended to do, maybe throw the baby at a nurse or something, anything, because Peter was whining more. Maybe not screaming, but Tony was scared it would turn into that if it continued. The moment he stepped into the open though, someone nearly bumped into him and when Tony tore his eyes from Peter’s blotched cheeks, he saw his mother standing there with a worried look on her face.

 

“Tony,” She said, holding her chest, “What’s wrong?”

 

Tony shook his head, searching for words. But he couldn’t find any, and without thinking, he started to transfer the baby to his mother’s arms. Peter continued to cry and his mother went further, “Honey, he’s just – Tony – “

 

He didn’t listen. Tony couldn’t breathe. Peter’s crying was slowly growing in octave, his little face looked so upset, and Tony could hardly turn and he walked away down the hallway in the opposite direction from his crying baby and his mother calling his name over and over again…trying to get him to come back.

 

He couldn’t.

 

Starks made horrible fathers…Tony couldn’t catch his breath. He slammed the bathroom door shut, locking it, and he didn’t care where he was, how far he had walked, Peter’s cries had disappeared, but he could still hear them. Tony leaned against the door and covered his ears with his hands, shutting his eyes tightly. There was a baby on that floor that was his son. That was his child. And yet there he was, hiding in a restroom because Peter had done what all babies do: he had cried.

 

Tony could not parent a baby with no reference, with no faith from his father in his ability to do so. Then…he had no faith in himself.

 

He was a Stark. _Starks made horrible fathers_.


	6. Hospital Havoc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve gotta stay with me,” Tony didn’t know why he was trying to explain this to an actual newborn who wasn’t even a day old yet, “That’s just how it worked out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you all enjoy this update, I love you guys and thank you all so much for the support! ❤❤❤😁😁😁😁

Tony hid in the restroom for a really long time.

 

Longer than he probably should have.

 

There was a deeper guilt that was scolding him for not going back out there…For not facing his parents and his newborn child, and for just being a coward, hiding behind a closed door like a kid when he was going to have to grow up. Because he had held Peter in his arms, had looked at his small face, and there was no longer a rumor in a newspaper or a magazine, but there was a human being whose chest would expand when he breathed and his eyes blinked, and he could cry a wail that made Tony’ chest stutter with horror. Babies cried, he supposed, but it had still sent a course of terror through his spine and up his back into every nerve in his body. Babies maybe just cried sometimes, but Tony couldn’t help but feel he had done something terribly wrong to make his baby do that.

 

He stared in the mirror and he tried to see past his fifteen-year-old face. When he was thirty, Peter would be his age, and there was something startling about that. He couldn’t imagine ever raising a teenager, ever avoiding being Howard, he hoped his son was not him. So imperfect because Howard would chip that away like some kind of concrete statue and Peter would suffer for being violently different. So Tony prayed his son was foolish, blind to that, but another part of him wanted a son that could make his own decisions. That could escape the ever gripping latch that Howard had on their lives.

 

He had the urge to take Peter, to run from the hospital, but that wasn’t what ended up happening.

 

Instead, Tony splashed cold water on his face and on the back of his neck. He continued taking in his deep breaths, continued processing the situation that had been displayed, remembered Peter’s soft skin under the knuckle of his index finger, the way he had squirmed. Peter, who had come into the world alone, crying from what his father had said. No mother to hold him, to have him close, and Tony already felt like a failure because of that. Because he couldn’t rescue his son from the agony of not being with his mother. Even if Mary had planned to put Peter up for adoption, there was still this issue that exclaimed that Peter was not going to have two loving parents. He would have gotten that, had Mary been given the choice.

 

Tony’s eyes were bloodshot, when he pushed his way out of the bathroom, finally unlocking the door. The halls felt empty, but he was in the maternity ward, in silence, there was very little movement from the world around him. He knew where he wanted to go, but it was a bad idea, and yet Tony did it anyway because he was a host of bad ideas. They bloomed so powerfully within him and they usually resulted in the bad things. But was Peter a bad thing? He felt split in that decision, he didn’t know how to view a small human as bad, even if he knew Howard did. He wished there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. He wished he didn’t have to second guess it.

 

Peter couldn’t be bad though, his face, his nose, everything had been so perfect.

 

It was just…everyone had been telling him what a bad thing this was and he had almost started viewing his baby in a demonic way. But that wasn’t it at all, Peter couldn’t be bad. He was quite possibly the best thing in the universe, so Tony didn’t know why it felt so difficult to go back in there. Why he was going to do something so stupid, even though he knew what it would result in. The kind of pain and the trouble it was going to plague upon their ‘house’ if the Starks could be considered that. Sometimes he felt like they were the plague. But he followed the signs on the walls, listened closely, the hospital was so silent, as he walked down, glancing at open and closed doors alike.

 

It was a stupid, stupid, stupid idea.

 

But the recent panic attack made it difficult to think past his guilt and when he rounded a left corner, Tony saw one of his father’s lawyers exiting a hospital room. A man and woman were talking to him quietly, and Peter didn’t recognize them, but their faces looked pained and concerned. Tony slid behind the corner, peeking around hesitantly as the three walked down the hallway in the opposite direction. Tony breathed deeply once they were around the other edge of the hallway and he pushed himself away, going towards the room they had just come out of. He prayed internally no one would be in there, that this stupid idea would die, but when he pushed the door open without knocking, he found that he was wrong.

 

Tony was wrong a lot.

 

The room was empty, besides one person. Lying on the bed was Mary. She was staring at the wall blankly when Tony came in, dressed in a hospital gown. She had an IV in her arm, a tag on her wrist, she looked pale and her cheeks were splotchy like she had been crying but she had just given birth a few hours ago and then Howard had brought hell down upon her, so it made sense to see the upset in her features. Tony bit the inside of his cheek, trying to wrap his mind around what he had planned on saying. But Mary looked at him before he could think of anything and she looked rather…horrified to say the least.

 

“No, no, no,” She shook her head, voice cracking.

 

Tony held up a calming hand, trying to be level-headed but anxiety was quickly gripping him in the stomach. He had to say sorry. His family had done so much to hurt her, they were taking her right to choose what happened to her baby, he just had to apologize, it wasn’t _fair_. The Starks were making her world so violent and cold and Tony tried, “Wait – just…Mary – “

 

“You can’t be in here,” Mary’s voice was rattling, shaking, like she was near tears and she must have because her eyes started to grow redder by the passing moments, “You can’t – I just signed a paper saying I would…I’m not allowed near you or-or…”

 

It was as if she couldn’t finish the sentence, a hand clamping over her mouth. She pointed to the door, and spoke past it, slightly muffled, “Get out, Tony. You need to get out, do you – your father will – “

 

“Just _stop_ for a second,” Tony begged, approaching the bed slowly, and Mary kept her hand over her mouth, and yeah, she was definitely crying now, “I’m sorry – look I had to come and I had to say I’m sorry…Mary…I never wanted any of this, okay? Howard is…Howard is…”

 

It was as if he was afraid to say it. As if Howard would hear him somehow and attack him or her or Peter. Like a frightening antagonist, always floating and floating. Tony ran his fingers through his hair, sucking in a deep breath before he went on, “Mary I’m _sorry_.”

 

“You don’t get to say that,” Mary swallowed, throat bobbing up and down, finally uncovering her mouth. Her chest was quaking, and Tony felt the guilt dig its talons in deeper, in the pit of his stomach and he wished his father could see the kind of agony he inflicted upon people who didn’t deserve it, because Mary didn’t deserve any of this, “Do you know what he has _done_? He ruined my reputation, the tabloids hate me…My baby has to be raised under his roof, and I didn’t even get to choose a family for him – or a _name_. I could have found people to love him, to view them as their own…”

 

She paused, then finished, “As more than just an asset for his company.”

 

Tony took in a sharp breath, body aching. He wanted to sit down, to try to comfort her, but he knew he couldn’t because this was his fault. It was just one fucking night and her entire life was crumbling around her and unfairly Tony was there, Tony’s life wasn’t being ruined, and their baby was going to be under his roof. He didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t know how to fix it, and Tony was just…he built things, he fixed things, it was what he had been taught ever since he could remember but Mary’s eyes suddenly seemed to have a sense of realization behind them. He watched the wheels turning behind her eyes and she spoke sharply…an order…confidence entering her voice, replacing the anguish…

 

“Listen to me,” She ordered, “Listen to me, Tony. You can’t – I know he’s your father, but you can’t let him sink his teeth in. Please…if you respect anything I’ve asked of you, you cannot let your father do that. You have to…you have to – “

 

She didn’t get to finish. The door to her hospital room opened suddenly and Tony whirled around. The man and woman that had been speaking to his father’s lawyer outside were there, looks of shock flashing across their faces. Tony’s mind wracked to place whether or not he knew them, but he didn’t until Mary gasped out, sounding panicked and Tony realized he was very stupid for coming in there, “Mom, Dad – “

 

Without warning, the father’s face wasn’t shocked anymore, not like Mary’s mother. He shot forward, and Tony barely had time to cringe before the front of his shirt was gripped and he was dragged forward. Tony heard Mary shout for her father, as if she thought he was about to hurt Tony. Tony would have let him. He would have let him hurt him, but no one struck him. Not one attempted to hit him. Instead he was pulled towards the man’s face, seething rage behind the eyes that he recognized to be Mary’s. He growled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

“William…” Mary’s mother spoke sharply, grabbing a hold of his bicep, “Let go of him.”

 

But her father, William, didn’t release. Instead he stared intently at Tony, hatred glowing and Tony felt it melting down within him. His face was turning pink around his cheeks in his blistering fire, and Tony wanted him to hit him. He wanted him to hurt him. He deserved it. He deserved everything William was willing to dish out. William turned just slightly to tell her, “This is his son, Tess – Howard fucking Stark – “

 

“Howard Stark will make things worse for our daughter if you touch a hair on his son’s head,” She responded, sounding level headed, more so than anyone in the room. Tony could hear Mary crying behind him. He could feel William Fitzpatrick breathing.

 

Tony croaked, “Mister Fitzpatrick I…I’m _so_ sorry…”

 

 The hand on the front of his shirt tightened. Tony expected the blow to come, but it never did. Instead he was dragged towards the door, before a sharp shove pushed him out into the hallway. Tony hit the wall on the other side, the handle on the wall pushing into his back and he caught himself before he could hit the floor, catching his breath. William was staring, or more so glaring. He looked murderous. He grabbed the door handle and he spoke simply…

 

“You and your family can burn in Hell.”

 

The door slammed.

 

Tony stood there a few moments, gathering his thoughts. Trying to make them coherent. But they felt really far away. He felt far away. He wrapped his mind around William’s rage, the pain in his wife’s eyes, Mary’s agony of having to give birth and then having her son torn from her into a life she hadn’t wanted for him. The Starks were full of cruelty. Tony was cruel, wasn’t he? If he was better, he would stand up against Howard. He would tell him what he thought, and the more the rage simmered, the more he grasped onto that idea tightly. The more tempting it became. Hurting Howard was out of the question, Howard simply didn’t have those bones, the ones that Maria had, the ones that when Tony got angry he could target. There was none of that alive within him. And so he screamed inside of himself, because if he couldn’t do that he could at least say it. Speak it into existence and knowledge and an explosion went off within his body and he thought…He had to do it.

 

Tony pushed himself from the wall and took wide strides towards the baby’s hospital room.

 

Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was going to do or say. If Howard would even be in there. But it felt like a heavy weight had set inside, and then erupted and Tony had to do _something_. Had to say something, after looking at Mary. After feeling what she was feeling and seeing the actual emotional violence they were capable of dishing out against others. Tony walked down the long hallways of the hospital. But then somewhere it turned into a sprint. Nurses looked at him oddly and he supposed it was weird, to see a teenager running, mind rushing with a hotness he could not comprehend, ears filling with the sound of water.

 

He rehearsed, but it didn’t make sense.

 

When he entered the room, he was almost relieved to find none of the lawyers were there. It was simply his mother, holding the baby while sitting in one of the chairs and then his father, speaking on the telephone to someone in a serious tone. Tony didn’t know, but if he had to guess he’d say Obie. That was who was on the phone with his father ninety percent of the time. Tony didn’t think, and his mother glanced up at him, her face surprised maybe to see the hatred on his own. But Howard didn’t even look up, and so Tony pushed himself forward in his blindness, crossing the room, and without warning he was shoving the bulky phone from his father’s hand. It fell to the floor, the battery pack popping out and his father looked at him in shock as Tony shoved his shoulders hard, but Howard barely moved. Tony was smaller, scrawny, life was hard, it was hard to feed himself, to do anything other than consume things that would keep him awake long enough to complete school tasks. To handle whatever his father had laid out for him or the company.

 

Howard was the first to speak, beginning to grit, “What the hell – “

 

“Don’t!” Tony couldn’t help the scream, and it was exploding, and he couldn’t remember if he had ever shown this sort of rage so outwardly, his fear of his father always silencing him, but he couldn’t be silent when it came to Peter. “Don’t fucking – don’t okay!? How could you!? How could you do that!”

 

“Anthony,” Maria spoke from behind him, and when he glanced at her, her eyes were worried as if she were about to watch her son and husband strangle one another, which was a possibility. Peter was in her arms. His arms were wiggling, fingers opening and closing. He was alive, and real, and Howard was going to end up hurting him –

 

Tony snapped, “No, Mom. I – I just, I just talked to Mary, and Dad is torturing them, he’s making them miserable he’s a – “

 

He turned to look at his father again, and he poked his chest, shouting almost belligerently, “You’re a selfish piece of shit! You don’t care about me or Peter or anyone, all you care about is your image and your company and I’m not gonna let you do this to my kid, you’re just a monster!”

 

Tony had been expecting to be hit. To be slapped like the night his father had found out about the baby in the first place. But it didn’t come. Instead the front of his shirt was grabbed, like Mister Fitzpatrick had done, but Tony was then pushed into the wall behind him, effectively pinned. Tony squirmed in the hold, tears welling in his eyes, but his father simply held him back and he wondered if this was abuse or if he deserved it because he had shoved his dad first and that was where the lines got blurry, but he promised himself, looking into the eyes he and his father shared that he’d never touch Peter like that. Never be rough with him. But an underlying voice told him he would be no better. He couldn’t be better.

 

His mother approached them and he wanted to tell her to get away, because she was holding the baby and he didn’t want the baby close to Howard. She used her free hand to place it on Howard’s arm and Tony stopped squirming because he was afraid Howard would bump into her while he tried to control Tony’s limbs. The entire thing was a mess, and he breathed heavily, spine pressing into the sheetrock behind him. Suddenly there was silence. His father was staring, daring him to say anything else. But there was a glimmer of confusion, of shock, because Tony usually threw out one liners in jabs towards his father, an entire meltdown was odd. Out of hand.

 

“You’re going to blame me for all of this?” He gritted out, “Really? Everything I have done, all of this effort I’ve put in, has been to protect you. To protect that child. To protect this family – “

 

“From what!? A _baby_?!” Tony’s voice cracked.

 

“From what he could grow up to be if he’s not raised in the right hands!” Howard snapped, “You think he’d grow up and never go looking for where he came from? You think he’d never find it? The correlation between the Starks and glory will hardly fade in the next thirty years, I expect you to grow up and make sure of that. It would be dangerous to our legacy.”

 

Tony breathed bitterly, “What legacy? A legacy of liars and cruelty and treating people like shit? Mary wanted him to have two parents, to grow up with people who would love him – “

 

“Honey,” Maria’s voice was soft, “You’re perfectly capable of loving him.”

 

Tony glared at her, and it was rare he felt anger towards his mother, but in that moment she wasn’t doing anything. She always played a neutral spectator through his father’s lashings and it wasn’t fair. He had once viewed her as an ally but now she was nothing more than someone there to pick up Howard’s pieces. Tony argued, “What, from behind a nanny? Cause that’s what you guys are gonna do, you’re gonna hand him off to a nanny, just like you did to me. What makes you think I even know how to love _anyone_?”

 

“Because I just watched you defend a girl you barely know for the sake of him.”

 

Maria sounded so matter-of-fact that Tony’s stomach dropped. His father’s hand slowly released his shirt. Tony sniffed, and he hadn’t realized in his anger he had been crying, but he had. His father was watching him warily, as if he expected him to lash out again, but he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. He handed it over and ordered in the voice that refused to be argued with, “Clean your face.”

 

Despite his anger, Tony took it. Tony turned away slightly, body stiff as he felt both of his parents studying him while he slid the fabric across his face. When he looked back at them, he saw his father’s eyes lingering too long. Studying too closely. But then it disappeared, and Howard looked at Maria before he stated simply, “We need to go address the press. They’ve set up a makeshift conference downstairs. We want to have an official statement before papers start making up their own.”

 

Maria seemed hesitant, looking at Tony. He sensed she wanted to stay with him, but he didn’t really want her to. He didn’t really want either of them to stay, but then when she stepped forward and started trying to transfer Peter into his arms, that was when he wished he hadn’t thought that. His mouth opened, the weight returned and the blanket was soft, but he was afraid. He shifted Peter, looking at his mother with a terrified expression as she stepped away from him. Her eyes held something, like a silent apology, but that was how it always was wasn’t it? So he didn’t reach for her, because she had only stood there. She never chose a side.

 

Peter’s arms stretched in response to being jostled. His eyes were squinted open against the sunlight pooling from the window. Tony had never seen them open before, not really unless he had when Peter had cried earlier. Maria’s fingers slid across Tony’s cheek and she whispered, “We’ll be right back.”

 

Tony didn’t try to hide his bitterness, “Whatever. Have fun lying to everyone.”

 

Maria cringed back as if she had been struck before she turned and approached Howard who had moved to the doorway. Tony watched them leave, as he was left alone once more with Peter. He told himself this time, if Peter started to cry, he wouldn’t get scared. He wouldn’t be afraid and he wouldn’t try to run. He would stay with him and he would figure out how to handle it. Because he didn’t want his parents around him anymore, but having Peter in his arms, he felt as if he was going to break him again and his eyes watered. He wanted to cry. He swallowed back tears, looking at Peter’s perplexed face, as if the world around him was so odd and he couldn’t understand it.

 

“Hi…” Tony’s voice wavered, “Sorry I kinda…ran off earlier.”

 

He was almost afraid to move, to walk, to go sit down. But he approached the bed, slowly doing so and sinking down onto the mattress. He shifted Peter, placing a hand under his head and another under his body so Tony could look at him better. He didn’t really move. His expression was unchanging, he just continued to blink. Tony wondered when babies started reacting to faces. When they realized there was consistency in the people around them. Peter’s hair was soft under his hand and he leaned in close. Something had never been wholly his, truly and honestly, and Tony was afraid Peter wouldn’t be, but his heart was stuttering and he knew he was going to have to fight. But Mary had asked, she had only asked that one thing. Not to let Howard’s teeth sink in.

 

Tony wanted to do something for her…after everything his family had done against her and her parents.

 

He was very close to Peter’s face, so close his nose brushed his cheek.

 

“I’m…I’m your dad I guess,” He whispered, “Howard won’t hurt you.”

 

It sounded foreign on his lips. All this time, he had been wrangling with the feelings of being a father. Of a baby. But it hadn’t seemed real until then. Until Mary had asked him to be a father to their child and not some bystander like Maria. Tony hesitated, briefly, before his lips brushed the baby’s temple. Peter was wiggling a bit now, but still not much. Tony figured it’d be a while before he moved a whole lot. He wondered what Peter was thinking about…Maybe not the way Tony thought, not in language, but he had to be thinking something Tony couldn’t grasp because he would never think that way again.

 

“You’ve gotta stay with me,” Tony didn’t know why he was trying to explain this to an actual newborn who wasn’t even a day old yet, “That’s just how it worked out.”

 

_But you’re mine. Not Howard’s._

Maybe it was startling.

 

Nothing had ever been Tony’s before, but he was going to make sure Peter was. Just enough to keep him safe.


	7. Colic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe you made something so…cute. And quiet.”
> 
> Tony scoffed, “Trust me, at three in the morning? Not cute and not quiet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! School is drowning me, but in three weeks I am free for the summer! Maybe things will be easier then without all the homework trying to kick my tail, but thank you all for patiently waiting! I love you guys.

Bringing Peter home was…a transition.

 

Maybe that was just because Tony lacked a better word for the process.

 

Like he had learned early on, or had at least expected, a nanny was constantly around. Almost twenty-four seven and when Tony would come home from school, she was there. When he went to bed, she was there. He wondered when she actually slept because he was pretty sure he had yet to see her do so. His parents had assigned her a guest bedroom in the penthouse though, to make nights easier on everyone involved. Tony would come in from classes, before his father would ultimately drag him off to Stark Industries to learn more and more. Sometimes it felt like Tony’s head was on the verge of erupting behind his ears from all the information he was constantly absorbing. He would lean over Peter’s crib, the baby was almost always just waking from his afternoon nap at that point. He would kick his little legs and look at Tony with wide eyes.

 

Peter was nearing eight weeks when he started to coo.

 

It was almost…foreign to Tony. Because Peter had been relatively silent those first few weeks. Only small sounds of protest when he was upset, but he hadn’t made much more of an attempt to communicate with others. But it seemed to happen suddenly, when Tony had come home from school one day and had reached into the crib to run a hand over the baby’s abdomen. Peter had looked at him, his mouth rounded and had let out the high-pitched sound, hands held in tight little fists.

 

Tony wondered if he had been doing it longer than he thought though and he didn’t have the heart to ask the nanny when it had started because he wanted to pretend he hadn’t missed something while being dragged to board meetings by his father to observe or while sitting in his classroom. Peter kept his fingers in his mouth at all times. Well, almost always. Tony kept up with the schedule the nanny kept him, for things like floor time, stuff Tony hadn’t realized babies needed to do to promote their growth. She was already reading to Peter and the boy was only a few weeks. Tony realized he had learned nothing. Knew nothing about babies.

 

That was even more apparent on _that_ night.

 

The nanny, who was named Emma, had taken the week off to go be with her mother who was receiving her first round of chemotherapy. It had been last minute, and his parents hadn’t been able to go through a process of finding someone trustworthy enough to have in their house for a week, and of course, being Peter’s father, Tony decided he would take care of Peter. There were kids all over the world who became parents young, kids who didn’t have nannies to raise their babies while they did school work, and a part of Tony had been happy at the prospect in the beginning, but also terrified. Because he knew what it would mean.

 

And it had meant exactly what he had thought.

 

Tony supposed it was a bad week. A week with two exams and a quiz and homework due, and Peter wasn’t sleeping because of colic. Colic hadn’t exactly brought hell down on his house, because he supposed Emma was the one who always dealt with it, but it was that night that Tony was alone…Was with his son, was the one holding him while he cried and cried and eventually Tony shoved his homework away, picking the boy up off the pillows where Tony had propped him up slightly. His little feet were kicking in his onesie, fat tears rolling down his face as he wailed in the late hours of the night. Tony bit down hard on his lower lip, cradling the child to his chest and a hand held gently under the boy’s head.

 

“Shhhh,” Tony said, “Peter I – I know it hurts I just…”

 

_I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help._

 

Fuck he was tired. He was so tired from school, from his father, from Peter crying the past several nights nonstop. Tony knew it was Peter’s stomach, knew it was something that just happened, that the pediatrician said was normal, but it was hard listening to Peter cry so hard his voice would crack. Tony blinked, his eyes burning and burning as he attempted to fight it down, rocking just slightly, just enough. Maybe to comfort himself more than the baby and somehow that felt increasingly selfish.

 

“Please stop…” Tony whispered. Of course, the baby didn’t stop, he didn’t _understand_.

 

The tests, the quiz, the sleep deprivation. It was all starting to dig into his flesh and he felt like he was bleeding but he couldn’t be sure. Tony felt his chest tightening and he was trembling with a familiar overwhelming sense of horror. Maybe not horror, but fight or flight and he couldn’t run away, so he pulled Peter’s tiny body to chest and pushed himself out of the bed, trying to calm his stuttering breathing that was silenced against his son’s cries of discomfort and he made his way down the hallway from his room, homework forgotten and left behind to be worked on later, he supposed, when he wasn’t on the verge of tears.

 

He was on the cusp of guilt and pain because how could he be such an awful father? It had only been a week without the nanny and he was already losing his mind. He was just so tired, and the coffee hardly took. It was barely anything at all to him. He felt like he wasn’t breathing, but he tried. He pushed through the motions of it at least and he wanted to wake his mother but he knew if he did that, he would have to wake his father too in the process. Peter’s cries were echoing down the hall, they would probably hear, and he hoped they’d stay in bed. Tony entered the kitchen, the evidence on his face as he turned the sink on, starting to make a bottle, but he didn’t know how that was going to help if the colic was caused by stomach pain and Peter just continued to wail.

 

It ricocheted off the walls and Tony bounced him slightly, setting his jaw in a hard line as he shut his eyes and tremored. The past several weeks hadn’t just been school, and Peter, it had been the media. Constant talk, the paparazzi were apparently harassing the Fitzpatricks as well. Maybe Mary was never going escape, William was going to demonize Tony forever. Peter would grow up, probably see those things some time later and know what Howard had done. It was intimidating, a mess out of proportions.

 

It frightened him.

 

The bottle was heating up when two figures appeared in the kitchen, interrupting his brief mental breakdown. He looked up quickly, eyes wide when the light was switched on. Peter continued to cry, fists held, face pink with anger. His mother and father looked like they had been pulled from the dead of sleep, and his mother was wrapped tightly in her night robe. She was the first to move forward, and Tony felt his heart stutter with fear as he looked at his father’s face. A face that seemed somewhat…irritated.

 

His mother looked more worried than anything and she questioned, “Is he hungry?”

 

Tony couldn’t really speak, as she began to take the baby from his arms. His father moved forward as well, and Tony glanced back at the bottle that was warming. He didn’t know…He didn’t know much of anything having to do with Peter and in the past week he had barely learned anything more. He felt swallowed. Then spat back out.

 

“I don’t – “ The microwave started to beep, “I don’t know.”

 

When it did, he was almost horrified to watch his mother begin to hand the baby off to Howard. Tony, in his dazed state, almost opened his mouth to protest when she moved to open the microwave, as if it had been nothing. As if she hadn’t just handed Peter over to the person that made Tony miserable the past several years, as if he she hadn’t just handed him to the man that had made Mary sign those papers, and where was she? She couldn’t be a mother, couldn’t decide where their son went to live. Nothing could be done, because Howard had taken that choice away.

 

The past several weeks of Peter’s life had been brief, but Tony had mulled over the agony. The pain and the anger and the hatred he felt towards his father and what had happened in the hospital that day. Why it felt so unbelievably smothering. Like he was dying inside of it.

 

“She seems a bit useless now,” Howard was mumbling under his breath, and it took Tony a moment to realize he was talking about the nanny, “Can’t even come into work.”

 

Maria pulled the bottle out, holding it between her hands before pouring it over her wrist and sighing, “Her mother is sick, Howard, don’t be cruel.”

 

“Still. We pay her enough to show up.”

 

His father’s eyes found Tony’s. Round, bloodshot, teary. An agony that was unreadable. Tony felt rather smothered beneath that. Howard only shook his head and let out a breath, and he definitely was annoyed now. It wasn’t an undertone and Peter wasn’t wailing because he was hungry and Tony didn’t know why he had made a bottle. It was colic, his stomach was hurting, he was always, always screaming now and Tony wanted to cover his ears when the words escaped his father’s vile voice, filtering over Peter’s crying.

 

“You aren’t ready...Obviously.”

 

Tony didn’t cover his ears. The cord inside of himself snapped, and it left behind burning flesh and an ignited rage. His father was always telling him shit he already knew, and yet it was shit he shouldn’t have said. Because it was stuff people just…if they had any sort of decency they wouldn’t say it out loud, but of course his father had to. Howard always had to. Always. Always. And that frustration bubbled up and Tony stepped forward towards his father, ready to snap his head off, but his baby was crying in the man’s arms and he couldn’t comprehend that his father was holding Peter. Was this the first time he had ever held him? He wasn’t sure, he hadn’t noticed.

 

Tony couldn’t think.

 

“Give him back.”

 

The words came out as a snarl. Venomous past his lips and his father might have been startled, but then it was buried behind a usual passive aggressive nature. The kind that made Tony’s skin crawl. It was weird, as if his father was going to do something awful and it just wasn’t logical, but it formed in the back of his mind and he didn’t want Howard touching the kid, and the kid was Tony’s. The only thing that belonged to him, but when Peter was being held by Howard it felt impossible for that to be true.

 

Howard was poisonous, and Peter was small…and _crying_ and Tony didn’t know what to do.

 

It looked like he was about ready to roll his eyes, even if the shock was still ringing. Tony’s defiance was of no surprise, it was always there, but things had died down since the hospital, since Tony had been pushed to the wall, since Mary and everything. Tony just wished for all of it to go away, but that wasn’t how it was going to work, he supposed and instead he just pushed inside of himself to be brave. To stand up and do something, but it was fueled by irrational anger as he swallowed thickly.

 

Maria sighed behind him, “Tony…Stop, don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“No,” Tony snapped, glancing at his mother, then back at Howard, “Give me my fucking baby.”

 

He didn’t know how, but the panic was bubbling back up and when his father stood defiant, a look on his face that said something along the lines of ‘make me’ Tony stepped forward. Howard gave one sharp order of, “Get a grip.”

 

Tony didn’t. Instead he started to take the baby from his arms, and his father relented, maybe afraid Tony was being too rough, and maybe he was. Maybe he was letting the emotional outburst get the better of him as he practically snatched the baby into his own arms, but cradled Peter’s head carefully as if to protect him from what the simple touch of Howard’s skin could bring. He didn’t even know if Howard had held Tony when he was a kid, and he probably had, but it just wasn’t imaginable. Howard didn’t…he didn’t have that emotional capacity that could exist when being a father.

 

As much as Tony cared about the baby in his arms, as much as he wanted to protect Peter, couldn’t imagine hurting Peter…Or letting Peter be hurt.

 

Howard could never have felt that for him. It wasn’t possible.

 

Maria moved behind Tony, grabbing his arm and he could see by the frustrated look on her face that she was angry with the both of them. With their childishness and the fact that it was the middle of the night and Peter was still crying, chest quaking. She had the bottle in her hand and she pointed toward the hallway and snapped, “You’re both being ridiculous. To your room, now.”

 

It was rare Maria got angry with him, but Tony did as he was told, not looking at his father again. He heard his mother growl something towards the man along the lines of ‘stop antagonizing him’ before she was following behind him. Tony was still struggling to breathe past his anger and exhaustion as he entered his room and moved to the bed, sitting on the edge. By the time his mother came in, and had shut the door, Tony’s hands had begun to shake so much he was afraid he would disturb his son. But air was hard to come by. And he was so, so angry that Howard had – Howard had held Peter and –

 

“Let me see the baby.”

 

His mother was holding out her arms, and Tony was almost hesitant to hand his crying son over. But Maria was different from Howard. Not innocent, but different. Tony felt…well, he almost felt angry at the world for the time being. Like someone ignited that rage deep in his bones and it just wouldn’t go away. Slowly though, he held out his arms, the baby was transferred to his mother and maybe…well, besides the nanny, Maria was the only maternal hand that their house had to offer besides a stone cold Howard and a teenager like Tony and he was so afraid.

 

Tony always felt so terrified now.

 

“Mom he – he won’t stop crying, his stomach is…”

 

“You were the same way,” She assured, and instead of trying to feed the warm bottle to Peter, she simply went over to the desk chair and sat down. She unzipped his tiny onesie and pressed the bottle to his belly, and Tony’s mind clicked it was meant to provide comfort. To make him relax. Tony’s shoulders sagged in defeat that he had not thought of that. It had never come to mind. It seemed nothing concerning the baby was his first thought. A lot of what he did to comfort Peter, he had seen the nanny do. Had watched from hiding places, when his father had intended for him to be doing school work.

 

Like how to swaddle Peter, how to properly change his diaper, how to make the bottles. It was taught from secretly observing. It was almost nauseating, and then his mind thought ‘you were the same way’. How his mother had known what to do, and she held Peter while sitting in the chair and soon Peter’s cries died off and the thoughts continued to assault Tony brick after brick after brick.

 

‘You were the same way’.

 

He supposed his mother knew nothing about him. But maybe she had watched the nannies, like Tony had.

 

Peter was eventually completely silent, and Tony felt warm tears on his face. It was like something from a dream, as if he and the baby had seemingly switched roles and his mother looked at him with concern in her eyes. She tilted her head to the side a bit and ordered, “Go to sleep…I’ve got him, love.”

 

Tony’s chest rose and it fell sharply.

 

“He needs me.”

 

“He’s alright,” She assured, “You can go to sleep.”

 

She sounded knowing. Like maybe she had experienced this terror, this need to be something for a baby that knew very little about his sources of comfort. Just that he wanted them, that he wanted his stomach to stop hurting, that he wanted to sleep. Tony was oddly the same way. He just wanted to go to bed. He wanted to stop feeling so sick to his stomach all the time as he breathed in deeply, and looked away from his mother, whispering, “I can’t do this.”

 

_A week without a nanny and I’m losing it. Pathetic._

Tony paused.

 

“Dad is killing me, Mom.”

 

Then…

 

“You’ve gotta do _something_.”

 

Maria shut her eyes. Tony knew, he had known before he had even said it what the response would be, but he had really hoped for the best. He had really hoped she would say something, do something, put Peter down and go out there and tell Howard to shove it where the sun didn’t shine. Not ready. Maybe that was true, Tony was fifteen, and he hadn’t been ready to be a father, but he was. And he wanted his kid to be fucking happy, and he couldn’t even handle Peter crying from colic. Maybe it made him angrier at himself, and Howard was an easy escape. Someone to blame, but he wanted his mother to just…he just wanted her to be on his side. For real this time.

 

But she deflected in a way only Maria Stark could do by ordering in a hushed tone as Peter’s eyes slipped shut in her arms, “Go to sleep.”

 

And so Tony laid down…stomach revolting. Mind whirling.

 

And he realized…things were probably never going to change for the better.

 

…

 

School the next day was miserable…But it ended. Like most bad things, it passed.

 

Emma showed up the next morning, and Tony had left. Had felt sad, seeing Peter in his crib, colic forgotten, his round eyes staring up at him with his fists in his mouth. Chewing and gnawing, always. Just always. When Tony sat in his desk at school, he wondered if Peter thought about his face, or if he only heard Tony’s voice shouting at Howard. An angry voice, and if he associated it with Tony’s face. If he was frightened of it, or if he remembered it over Emma’s at all. The nanny was, after all, the person who gave him the most care. And after a week with his father, it was a wonder Peter didn’t scream bloody murder every time he saw Tony.

 

Tests ended. Time moved on.

 

Rhodey kept him company in those lonely hours and had even followed him home that particular day. They were supposed to study, but Tony doubted they would. They’d probably read comic books or talk about everything to avoid school. Rhodey was struggling with the semester as well, in different ways, and Tony took comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone, even if it might have been selfish of him. College did such things. It ate and ate and ate until someone was skin and bone. Tony was sort of that figuratively and actually. Coffee was keeping him alive, afloat, above ground. But he didn’t know how much longer he could go without collapsing or doing something stupid. Stupid as in falling into the trap every other college kid fell into to stay awake.

 

It was on the elevator up to their apartment that Tony leaned against the wall and whispered softly, “I’m so fucking tired.”

 

“Did he sleep last night?” Rhodey questioned, “The baby, I mean.”

 

Tony swallowed and shook his head mutely.

 

Rhodey gave a simple shrug of his shoulder, though his eyes held pity, “This is your life now though. Babies don’t…sleep. I mean I don’t know a lot about them, but I’ve seen them, I’ve lived with them, my siblings and stuff. They’re obnoxious when they wanna be.”

 

Tony’s mouth upturned slightly in amusement before he amended, “Peter is never obnoxious, he’s just…He cries, you know? All night. It’s just the colic, but Christ, I complain about one week with my kid Rhodes. Just one. I’m – I’m really just as bad as Howard, aren’t I? I can’t handle it for a few nights, imagine all the other teens out there getting up at the ass crack of dawn to change diapers and I’m here complaining about a goddamn week – “

 

“You’re fifteen, Tony,” Rhodey interrupted, “You’re allowed to be scared and tired and frustrated.”

 

Tony’s mouth snapped shut. Maybe. Maybe he was allowed, but he didn’t want to be. He wanted to be better than Howard, and yet he couldn’t seem to find the chance to do so. He was trapped. But then the elevator doors opened and Tony pushed himself out before that trapped feeling could transcend into the real world and cause him any more tangible pain than it already was. Rhodey followed behind him and Tony turned around, raising an eyebrow as a sudden realization hit him. The bad habits of burying things long forgotten (wanted to forget, he wanted to forget) overwhelmed him and he plastered the smile to his face that usually got him a concerned look from his best friend.

 

“You haven’t seen him in person.”

 

It was an introductory that was a long time coming. The joke had been, Rhodey was the godfather. There was no official ceremony, his family wasn’t religious, but if there was going to be anyone, it was going to be Rhodey. And so as they moved down the hallway towards the nursery where Tony kind of hoped Emma the nanny wasn’t, he almost wrote a speech in his head about how he was going to make a tiny baby understand the importance of the guy he was about to meet. That Rhodey would be his uncle, that he was Tony’s best friend, and quite possibly the only person on the entire planet that he could trust wholeheartedly.

 

Emma was in the nursery, as well as Peter, lying on his back in the playpen with the decorations above his head that kept him entertained. His feet were kicking and Emma looked up to smile, but she hardly ever spoke to Tony. She stood straighter though, continuing to look kind as she greeted, “Ah! You’re home early.”

 

“Dad hasn’t gotten a hold of me yet,” Tony informed, “Has he…has he cried anymore today?”

 

She shook her head, “No…I suspect the colic will come again tonight, but don’t worry. I’ll be prepared and hopefully he won’t cry too long. It’s so hard listening to him wail his little heart out.”

 

Emma paused, then began to step away from the playpen, “I’ll step out a moment.”

 

As she did, it wasn’t that Tony was still reeling from Peter’s crying, but well…he was. And he lied, sometimes, about such things, even when he shouldn’t. Emma left the room and a silence befell the two of them, as Tony loomed over the playpen, gesturing for Rhodey to come forward. It felt like one of the most important introductions of his life. Like he had to get it right. Like if Rhodey hated his son he didn’t know what he would do because this was his best friend and his kid and Rhodey was one of the only people on the planet who understood him.

 

Tony reached down, sliding his hand under Peter’s head and body. He lifted him, and Peter’s round eyes stared at Tony’s face. He always looked so closely at him, as if Tony was something familiar and pleasant and that couldn’t be true. Tony’s face was the voice that screamed at Howard. That caused chaos, that had cried the night before with Peter. Tony turned to Rhodey and sort of lifted the baby a bit, introducing, “This is Peter. Peter, this is Rhodey.”

 

As far as introductions went, Tony felt it came short to what he wanted. But it was spoken into existence and Tony stepped forward then and offered almost dumbly, “You wanna hold him?”

 

Rhodey looked surprised by the offer, “Oh, I dunno – “

 

“C’mon, he doesn’t bite. Sometimes.”

 

Tony was already transferring the baby and Rhodey looked like he was holding something terribly fragile. Which Peter was, he supposed. But he wouldn’t be forever, and sometimes Tony noticed how Peter was already growing. Already getting bigger and his chest ached with sadness. A grief of time he was missing by sitting in class or at SI. The moment Peter was stable, Tony stepped back, mouth turning upward slightly at Rhodey’s wide eyes. Eyes that held the same shock that Tony had held upon holding Peter the first time and it was almost comical.

 

“Well?” Tony questioned.

 

He tried not to make it sound like a new car, or a toy, or something he was showing his friend. Like a child. Because this was his baby and he needed it to seem more adult than it was. And so he simply just…waited. He was not Howard, who used Tony for so many years as a show-trick for people. He couldn’t be. Peter was his son, and he would be proud of him just for existing, not for doing something ‘monumental’.

 

Peter’s existence was monumental.

 

Rhodey stared at Peter a moment. Peter stared right back, hand in his mouth. When Rhodey looked up, he scoffed, arms stiff, but slowly – ever so slowly – relaxing to the new weight in his arms. Tony knew what he was going to say before he said it. He didn’t know how. And if anything – it made it even more comical.

 

“I can’t believe you made something so…cute. And quiet.”

 

Tony scoffed, “Trust me, at three in the morning? Not cute and not quiet.”

 

He supposed it went for the both of them.


	8. Parent Pandemonium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you fucking kidding me, Obie?”
> 
> Silence gripped the room. Every eye cradled in wrinkles turned towards him.
> 
> Tony inhaled.
> 
> “Anthony,” His father snapped sharply, and Tony glanced at him, blinking hard, as if the sound of his father’s voice briefly pulled him into reality.

Introducing Peter to Rhodey had been one of the better moments of being a father.

 

It had been different from being introduced to Peter himself. Howard over his shoulder, a room shrouded in that sort of vague temptation to run. To take the kid and flee because he knew the kind of life that awaited a Stark kid. What he would have to grow up to be, the hardness that would be engrained in someone so small. And he hadn’t really realized it before seeing unconditional love, but he wanted Peter to be kind.

 

That was all he wanted…Peter to be kind and happy.

 

That couldn’t happen.

 

Because of the life he had been born into and for some reason it almost made him nauseous with anger. It wasn’t fair, but he knew there were worse places to be born. He could have been born starving, unclothed, but he lived in one of the wealthiest families in North America. It was just – Tony still wanted more. He wanted that emotional connection, and right now Peter was still too young to understand it. But he would grow, he would be able to sense a void. He had already been taken from his mother…this was just another step in that direction of agony and –

 

Tony sighed, and sat slowly, leaning against the wall behind him.

 

His bedroom was silent, Rhodey had left some time ago and now Tony went through the stomach-churning time between getting home from school and his father showing up. It was as if he was waiting for something horrible, hands shaking, but the night before had been less than kind and he knew there would be a conversation because they had to go to SI and Tony was just so tired.

 

Tony wasn’t sure he remembered the last time he wasn’t tired or nervous so deeply inside of himself that his hands stopped shaking. Every part of him wished he would just adjust to this feeling, and the not eating, and the constant caffeine. Because it felt like he was never going to escape his father and if that was the case he just needed to get used to being tortured in his own house and having to hide from his baby because he was scolded for hanging around him too long.

 

Life was weird, he could give it that. Maybe it was the oddness keeping him alive.

 

Tony jumped when the door to his bedroom opened. He sat crossed-legged against the wall, and he remembered doing this when he would hide, when he was smaller, but he was not afraid of Howard in that way…It was a misunderstanding, this fear. It wasn’t terror of being hurt, it was terror of being looked at wrong, of being a disappointment, of being told he hadn’t done something right. A perfectionistic inner wall, and Tony couldn’t climb over it because he had been taught it was there for a reason.

 

Fuck walls.

 

“Why are you on the floor?”

 

That was a very good question. Tony cleared his throat, and shrugged, before slowly sliding up it and to his feet. Howard stayed in the doorway, back rigid, eyes unfaltering and so difficult to read. Tony answered in a blunt tone, “Just resting.”

 

“Well, c’mon, the car is waiting downstairs.”

 

He pushed forward. School all day, being up all night, SI in the afternoon, a forced meeting he didn’t want to attend, but he was going to have to. He had to. It was learning, and one day he would take the company, and maybe if he learned a lot, the pressure wouldn’t be pushed to his small child down the hallway. He could save Peter from it. If he just fucking behaved. It was hard though.

 

Tony did as he was told, and followed his father from the room to fall into the daily routine that SI board meetings brought. He sat in them, said nothing, kept his mouth shut and as Tony plopped down into the backseat of the waiting vehicle, he was vaguely aware of the urge to say something about the boredom it was going to throw in his face.

 

So, he cleared his throat, impulse accepted, “Dad?”

 

His father hummed, looking down at papers in his hand, and Tony wondered how he could already be looking at work when he had literally just gotten in the vehicle. Tony continued, “I was thinking, maybe I could skip the meeting today. Go down and observe some of the stuff going on in the labs.”

 

Howard looked up and raised an eyebrow. His response wasn’t a surprise, but it still made Tony’s skin crawl with frustration.

 

“You’re not going to be working in the labs when it’s your turn to run the company,” Howard replied, “So seems useless to send you down there when you could be learning how to handle the Board properly.”

 

Tony inhaled, but nodded his head slowly. The agreement was forced, but he didn’t want to argue and make the car ride to SI more awkward than it already was. Not after everything that happened before. He wondered what it would be like one day if he was ever not smothered by the impending shadow his father casted over his life. Like a monster, something dark and looming. Tony chewed the inside of his mouth and instead opted to look out the window as his opinion was once again ignored.

 

The ride was silent.

 

Tony listened to the tires, the road, anything as a distraction against the burning in his brain. Until they pulled up onto the curb, and the door opened and Tony was forced out to face the adults that were waiting for them upstairs in one of the many conference rooms. It was a routine Tony had come accustomed to. Come in, sit down, someone would take their coffee orders, and no one said anything about the fact that a teenager didn’t need so much coffee. Tony could have been doing crack in front of them and he had a feeling they wouldn’t care as long as he was being productive and learning something.

 

The old men feared him.

 

They feared what his eventual inheritance would bring down upon the company.

 

There was a bloodthirsty piece of Tony that wanted to tell them that once he was running things, they would all be down the crap shoot and he’d make sure of it. Selfish old men in their pressed suits, ready to step on whoever they had to in order to get the next big thing. It was nauseating and a never ending cycle of shame. Tony was ashamed of what would be his one day.

 

But he would run things. Because that was just how it was.

 

The chair swallowed him, he was hungry but the amount of nervousness the day and the night before had brought had made him unable to eat, so he sipped the coffee that was brought to him and pretended the world wasn’t melting as the men began to speak. A low drone, and sometimes his father’s voice would raise, and Tony would flinch, even though it so obviously wasn’t directed towards him. Stocks, money, contracts, overseas deals, Tony had heard it all before and it was becoming second nature to be able to piece together the business aspects.

 

Who even needed business school?

 

The coffee scalded, Tony thought he needed that. He blinked and pondered about what Peter was doing…probably not much, he was a baby after all, babies didn’t do…a whole lot. But sometimes he put these thoughts into his child’s head, thoughts that weren’t there but he imagined them being. Wondering where Tony was, wondering who his family really was, where his mother was, and Peter couldn’t think that right now. He couldn’t think much of anything past being hungry or upset or uncomfortable or sleepy.

 

Tony leaned back in the chair.

 

His mind tuned in just in time to hear Obie say something along the lines of, “To get the contract we’re going to need some cuts…I say maybe twenty layoffs in the electric division. How many guys do you really need for that job, right? It’ll save us a hell of a lot more than cutting anywhere else.”

 

Tony felt his chest stutter and he sat up a bit straighter in his seat, tilting his head to the side. He swallowed a bit, something like concern flaring. Usually the things at the meeting were boring, none of his business, but…twenty layoffs…that was a lot.

 

That was a lot of people without work.

 

Without money.

 

It was sort of none of Tony’s business. And of course he would start listening when they would cover something that made his blood boil under his skin. Tony bit the inside of his mouth and tilted his head slightly to the side as he tried to make sense of it. Tried to form a coherent sentence even if he knew he was meant to be silent and observe during these meetings. They hadn’t even been twenty minutes in and his hands were shaking. Maybe it was the coffee, the empty stomach, the lack of sleep, but Tony had little to no filter and in a split second the words were blurting out of his mouth –

 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Obie?”

 

Silence gripped the room. Every eye cradled in wrinkles turned towards him.

 

Tony inhaled.

 

“Anthony,” His father snapped sharply, and Tony glanced at him, blinking hard, as if the sound of his father’s voice briefly pulled him into reality.

 

He wasn’t sure what it was inside of himself that felt so upset, and maybe it was just remnants of the night before because Tony gave his father the _stupidest_ look he could muster. He leaned forward even more in his chair and extended his arms in a sort of argument against them, voice going higher by each passing moment, octaves climbing, “These people put up with your constant bullshit, and you’re just gonna lay them off? Excuse me if that makes absolutely no sense.”

 

One of the older men leaned forward, so insignificant the only thing Tony could recognize him through was his mustache, “Now listen son, there’s a lot about this business you don’t understand quite yet – “

 

“I’m not your son,” Tony laughed bitterly, before pointing at his father, “I’m not even sure I’m his half the time. You clowns are running around playing with peoples lives, and why? Because you can. Maybe get off your high horses and look around you for once.”

 

It was unloading, aimed – targeted anger towards people that it didn’t make much sense to attack. He was angry and tired, upset with his parents because of the distance between himself and his child, and it was clear his father was the one in the way. Enraged and confused and Tony jumped when his father’s hand wrapped tightly around his upper arm and he was yanked to his feet, full force without mercy. Tony let out a sound of discomfort, before he was practically shoved towards the door and given one simple order:

 

“Wait for me in my office.”

 

Tony left, he supposed he had said what he needed to say – had unloaded the anger where it didn’t belong.

 

Tony found he did that pretty often.

 

He supposed the look on his face did nothing to conceal his anger as he moved through the halls towards his father’s office, because the secretary outside gave him a concerned look. She was used to seeing these things, their quarrels often followed them to the workplace. Actually, most of their fights stemmed from the existence and the expectations of SI.

 

The silence of his office…perplexed him.

 

Maybe because so many days had been spent with screaming bouncing off the walls, each of them trying to outvoice each other on opinions that made no difference one way or another. Tony’s boiling points were a result of his father’s, they shared similar temperatures, and that was why they struggled to tolerate. Tony sat down on the couch, knowing very well if he took the seat behind his father’s desk that would only amplify the situation they were currently skating the edges of.

 

Tony realized sometimes he hated his father.

 

He hated the way he made him feel. Helpless and cornered.

 

_I’ll never make Peter feel this way, I’ll never make him hurt like this. I’ll never do that._

But what if he did? By some sort of mistake?

 

So many people turned into their fathers without them realizing it. But when he thought of Rhodey and his family, Rhodey was more like his mother. So maybe Tony could become Maria, but without the drawbacks, like watching his son suffer through the pain another parent was causing. Of course that probably wouldn’t happen, because Howard had taken Peter from Mary. Howard still existed, and planned to exist in Peter’s life and God help him – if he ever talked to Peter that way – ever raised his voice Tony would –

 

He didn’t know.

 

Tony flinched when the door opened and he looked over. His father didn’t storm in fuming, like someone would assume, but instead he looked stone cold, closing the door behind himself with the lightest of pushes. Tony knew it was façade, that underneath it was all different, just waiting to claw out. He swallowed, sat up straighter and prepared himself for the long and tiresome conversation that was sure to come.

 

Howard folded his hands together, and stood there…staring.

 

Then his mouth opened, and per usual, the judgmental, patronizing voice escaped.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

Tony gritted his teeth, and shook his head, “What the hell was that? That was me actually taking up for our employees.”

 

“Our,” Howard echoed, “You mean mine.”

 

Tony laughed bitterly, disbelief crossing his face but then disappearing when he realized it was absolute bullshit. He pushed himself up from the couch, but didn’t strides towards his father, being sure to keep out of arms reach. A repeat of the night Peter’s existence had been revealed would not do. Not in the middle of their office. Tony replied, “Could’ve fooled me. As much as you talked about me needing to learn the ropes, needing to sit in on meetings, yet they’re not my employees. Seems like a big waste of time for me to be dragged to these things.”

 

“I bring you so you can learn.”

 

Tony threw out his hands, “All I’ve learned so far is how to be a self-righteous asshole who doesn’t care about the people working for him. Or not to mention, how to waste time here when I could be spending it at home with – I dunno, my kid. Because I go to school all day, then I come here, and by the time we get home he’s asleep or crying so much that I can hardly stand it because I haven’t slept either.”

 

Howard rolled his eyes and muttered, “Not this…”

 

“Yes this,” Tony laughed almost hysterically, confused, eyes burning with anger, “He’s your fucking grandson! And God forbid I try to do something better than you did – I try to actually be there!”

 

Howard pointed his index finger at him, “Everything I did was for you. This company, this business, it’s for your future.”

 

“It’s for your ego,” Tony growled, “That’s all it is. You don’t care about me, or Peter, or even Mom. You didn’t think about what was best for me growing up, not sleeping, and ignoring the fact that I’m screwed up. Then taking Peter from his mom before he’s even an hour old, hurting another family that has nothing to do with us – “

 

“That family had something to do with us the moment she slept with you, a minor, and got herself pregnant.”

 

Got herself pregnant.

 

Tony shook his head, “Newsflash, I kinda helped with that.”

 

Howard stepped forward, closing some of the distance. Tony resisted the urge to step back, to step away. Something engrained so deeply within himself it was almost hard to fight down. Fear Howard, avoid him, be compliant, but he couldn’t be when there was a whole other kid being threatened by his tyranny. His kid. The closed distance felt much smaller than it was, Tony held his breath, maybe to stop it from shaking. To not tremble. To not be frightened.

 

 But he was and he hated it.

 

The finger pressed to his chest and the words came out, causing Tony’s blood to run cold.

 

“I told you, this was all a distraction,” Howard growled, “This entire situation…the baby…a distraction. Maybe I ought to find somewhere else to send you, have you stay on campus of MIT, put some distance. That might finally give you the push you need to focus.”

 

Tony inhaled.

 

Away. Away. Away from their home.

 

Away from where Peter was.

 

Dread crept in, “You wouldn’t do that.”

 

_Because not even you are that cruel._

 

“I would.”

 

And instantly Tony believed him. Every word of it. Unfaltering, and fear bloomed. Tony nearly stumbled back off his feet, onto the floor, and he wanted to apologize, to take it back. Being sent away meant leaving Peter with only his parents – and he knew what being raised by Howard looked like. Even if Peter was only a baby he doubted the mercy would come. Peter would be another trinket, something to teach and train.

 

A weapon.

 

Tony moved away, and he swallowed, then the anger welled. He welled with it.

 

A warning, “I swear to God…I swear if you…”

 

But it wouldn’t come. The fear still ignited. So Tony looked at the door, and bolted around his father, throwing it open and ignoring his father calling his name. His full name, the middle and everything – and Tony ran down the hall, took the elevator, pressing the button over a dozen times to get it to come.

 

Protecting Peter would come with a cost, but he couldn’t let it happen.

 

He had to go, he had to get Peter.

 

And he had to leave. Fifteen years old or not, he had to go.


	9. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She questioned, continuing to chew her gum, “You need a room?”
> 
> Tony nodded mutely.
> 
> Suddenly words seemed so hard and he could hardly breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient! I'm so sorry this took a while, I've been working and traveling this summer but I hope you all enjoy!!!!!❤❤❤❤😁😁😁😁😁  
> This chapter is more of a filler, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Tony wasn’t sure the last time he had run so fast in his life.

 

He had to take a taxi of course, their driver would never willingly bring him home by himself, not without Howard’s direct orders and risking his own job because of Tony’s emotional outburst. Angry tears pouring and hands clenched so tightly it hurt. He could hardly breathe and the elevator felt silenced and tight, like he was being wrapped in an unwanted cocoon and he panicked a bit because he didn’t know – maybe he was wrong. Maybe this whole thing was wrong. It was illogical of him to be running away, it was stupid and selfish and it would endanger Peter, but then again, wouldn’t Peter be in more danger being left with Howard if Tony was sent away from them?

 

The buffer would be lost. Tony’s entire childhood would be repeated, he would be smothering under a rubble he could not remove all the while his son was being raised in the household he too was clawed down into and choked upon. This wasn’t just differing child rearing practices, this was preserving a life that Peter deserved to have. He deserved to be a child, to be happy, to not have to worry about the things Tony had been worried about. To not have so many expectations thrust upon him like a million pounds of cinderblocks, waiting to crush until his ribcage opened up to welcome weeds.

 

There were all of these steps to a probable escape. Being fifteen presented a number of challenges that almost stopped Tony’s plan that was somehow playing out before his very eyes. The confusion that blinded him – into the bank, and withdrawing a max amount of cash, running away was expensive apparently, the card was for emergencies. Howard was many things, but Tony had to admit his access to money just in case wasn’t withheld, simply monitored, and Tony knew with that withdrawal would come some kind of alarm. His father would come looking the moment he noticed. Running meant being discreet, the card was broken in half and chunked.

 

Tony took the taxi home.

 

He shoved the cash in his pocket and held his breath.

 

Life had fallen into this tumultuous ordeal, and he was sorry he had brought another human into the world but selfishly he felt less alone because of it. Tony clamped his mouth shut when he leaned over the seat and paid the taxi driver, avoiding his gaze and his interest and he took the stairs, not the elevator because his bones were screaming, and he needed to run and run and run and it felt faster for some reason to climb without stopping. The cash was weighing him down and this knowledge of knowing he was about to break his mother’s heart and the fear of what his father was going to do to him and Peter ate away at the pit of his stomach.

 

But he ignored. Tony was good at it, or at least he had been Before. Before becoming a father, before being a teenager seemed less about getting by and more about survival and preserving what little relationship he could have with his infant son. It had turned into escaping, getting away from the swallowing poison, the evil that was offered to him through Howard and his upbringing and the anger, the want for an escape, alcohol, drugs, whatever was needed he couldn’t comprehend it at fifteen, but he had a feeling that years down the line it was going to be different and he was going to be quieter.

 

Tony couldn’t see that future from where he was cowering.

 

The penthouse was empty, besides the nanny. Tony walked into the foyer, silence overwhelming him as he moved towards his bedroom and grabbed his backpack, emptying his school books and replacing them with clothing, hygiene products, stuff needed for survival – to get by. He wasn’t even sure what he needed as his hands trembled and he pretended not to assume his father would be sending someone after him, or worse coming himself. It was a toothbrush, some soap, stupid stuff he would think he would need and he didn’t want to spend the money if he didn’t have to. He could never use the card again.

 

Bag packed.

 

Over the shoulder.

 

Nursery.

 

The silence was deafening in all of its irony. The nanny was there, a bottle was in Peter’s mouth where she was rocking him in the chair. She looked up, appearing surprised to see Tony standing there in the doorway, but the surprise turned into a smile. She greeted cheerfully, “Ah, Mister Stark! You’re back early.”

 

Mister Stark, it seemed so formal for someone so young. Tony stepped further into the room, his mouth turning upward in a false smile as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder and he pretended not to be afraid even though his insides were twisting and turning. Emma made no move to stand and continued to give Peter the bottle. Tony cleared his throat and spoke, “Yeah uh…Dad let me go, I wasn’t feeling the whole meeting-thing today. So I just…took a car back here.”

 

He paused, mind working. She made no move to hand the baby over, and Tony tried to find the question behind his skull where it was surviving and thriving. The correct wording, and charm, charisma that was tattooed by generations of smooth words. Tony nodded towards his son, and he asked, “Could I feed him?”

 

Tony opened his eyes wide, kindly, softening them. It gained trust, and it was a lie and deceptive. Tony wondered why he had to do that to hold his son, his father had always called him a liar. Tony only did it when the push was too fierce, when he needed to fight back in a way that was almost too difficult to come to a conclusion about. The thing was – that was an ability he hadn’t learned from Howard, he had learned it from Maria. Even if she hadn’t exclusively taught it to him, he had watched. There was getting what one wanted through business and fierceness like Howard, or through softness and unsuspecting cunning like Maria. Tony adopted both.

 

Without even realizing it, until that moment when he used it purposefully.

 

Emma hesitated…

 

“Well, your father did say you’re to finish school work before being allowed time with the baby and such…”

 

Tony held her gaze. Silent and patient, melting into it. She sighed deeply, finally breaking the contact – finally tearing away and Tony knew he had won but he wasn’t sure how he knew until she started to stand, taking the bottle from Peter’s mouth as she continued, “But…I suppose he is yours, and what your father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

 

Tony might have assumed the kidnapping of his own son was going to be more difficult of a task. But no…Emma handed him over, bottle and all and she left the room – giving them a moment. Tony adjusted the swaddled baby in his arms, and didn’t return the bottle to his mouth. Instead he replaced it with a pacifier and went about filling a bag full of Peter’s belongings. Diapers, wipes, formula, whatever he needed…Whatever he could find and collect and Tony held his breath, hoping Emma would not return. Hoping these hopes of freedom would not be dashed and he didn’t feel like it was fair to be so afraid of escape.

 

Peter was bigger than the day he was born, and Tony had only just noticed it. The baby was growing, and yet he still slept and ate and cried, and did little else besides his occasional cooing. Tony zipped the bag up, adjusted Peter in his arms and breathed deeply, blinking down at him. His eyes burned and Peter’s eyes were on him, and even if the baby couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening, it felt almost wise in a way. Tony’s lower lip started to tremble and he felt fear as he pressed his mouth to the baby’s head and he apologized silently for uprooting him – possibly endangering him – but escaping Howard…It meant something.

 

It meant getting away – it meant going somewhere safe – it meant things and things and things and Tony tried to inhale that as he continued to press his lips to Peter’s head and when he pulled away all he could whisper was, “I am so stupid.”

 

Emma was on the terrace when they left.

 

Tony hoped Howard wouldn’t be too hard on her.

 

…

 

They took the bus, in a proud first-time experience.

 

Tony had never taken the bus in his fifteen years of life.

 

Peter cried, but luckily it wasn’t a crowded vehicle and it lessened Tony’s guilt for the other passengers as they enjoyed over an hour ride into Upstate New York. Tony bounced the boy, arms aching from holding him for so long, but Tony hadn’t thought of anything. He hadn’t thought of carrier, he hadn’t thought of a stroller (which he doubted would benefit him on a bus) he hadn’t thought of much besides his own inner silence. This lulling between being teenager and father – and not understanding at all what a baby needed, still not getting it. After Peter existing for weeks, Tony knew next to nothing and he hated himself for it.

 

The woman beside him kept casting him these strange glances of sorrowful pity and Tony wanted to scream his head off but he was just glad there had been nothing on the radio about his disappearance, that no one was making a fuss, that he had seemingly gotten out of the city unnoticed besides some curious glances from his fellow bus riders and the driver of the bus in the oddly still night outside of the city and being welcomed by stars into the small town that he hadn’t noticed the name of. Tony rarely traveled without his parents accompanying him unless to some boarding school or something – so it was fascinating. All of it. Howard – in not caring – seemed to care too much sometimes in his smothering and focus on academics.

 

Tony wished he had paid more attention. To the world. To people.

 

It wasn’t until Peter’s crying became incessant that Tony decided that town was their stop, and the tiny motel called _Barbara’s_ became more appealing. It clearly wasn’t a chain of any sorts, but it looked like the best sort of thing Tony had seen after hours inside a bus with his crying son and his horror. His fear of Howard – following him and surely taking Peter right from his arms and leaving him to rot in some dorm room while his son was raised to be a monster, to be a weapon, to be another brain Howard could control.

 

Buses, motels, it all seemed much better than suffering through Howard. Maybe one day Peter would forgive him. Either for his existence or the fact that he was ripped away from luxury in favor of running away with a fifteen-year-old father into upstate New York. Tony didn’t know where to go or what to do, but when he pushed the door open to the lobby and was hit with the strongest smell of lavender he had ever welcomed into his body, he wondered if he had made the right decision. A woman stood at the front desk, middle-aged and hair giant and curled over her head, pulled back by a bandana. She chewed gum loudly, and looked up when the bell above the door rang.

 

Tony got that same look. Maybe not pity, but confusion.

 

“Hi, honey,” She greeted and Tony slowly and carefully crossed the floor of the lobby. Peter continued to fuss and Tony adjust him in his arms. She stood up, putting her hands on her hips and she reminded Tony of those women from old movies, the ones that knew how to boss.

 

Once Tony was up to the counter, he cleared his throat, but said nothing. He had never once checked into a hotel on his own before. That was handled for him – and the air seemed to leave his lungs in that instance. The woman tilted her head down, and Tony noticed her name tag read ‘Barbara’ which…obviously seemed fitting for the motel. She questioned, continuing to chew her gum, “You need a room?”

 

Tony nodded mutely.

 

Suddenly words seemed so hard and he could hardly breathe.

 

His arms held tighter to the baby, and Peter continued to cry. She moved to the paper beside her desk and started writing something down. Peter’s crying was the only sound in the lobby and it seemed so dead, and Tony was so afraid. As if she was going to reach over and grab him, and it was one of the few times in his life that he was without words and without focus. Most of the time he knew what he wanted, but he didn’t then. He had no idea. He felt smothered and lost – and he wondered if he had really just run away from home. From Maria and Howard and comfort, but then he remembered there was no comfort.

 

Just terror and anxiety and anger.

 

She didn’t look up from the paper when he asked him quietly…

 

“Your mom and dad know you’re here?”

 

Tony inhaled sharply, and his voice came out a bit more forcefully than he had meant to, “They don’t need to know…I’m…I’m eighteen.”

 

Her brow raised and this time she actually did raise her head to look at him. Her head tilted to the side slightly and she was pursing her lips, clear that she didn’t believe him. Not in a forceful way, but a gentle…almost maternal way. She hummed, “If you say so…And the baby…yours?”

 

“Yes,” Tony ground the words out, “He’s mine.”

 

 It almost felt rabid. As if she had become Howard, had become the threat, even though something told Tony that certainly wasn’t the case…This was worry, this was concern, this was a need to protect something she didn’t know, and Tony was confused by this kindness and this seemingly uncalled for protection. She set her pen down slowly and leaned forward, flattening her hands on the table in front of her. Her head nodded, “Sounds like he’s got colic.”

 

Tony felt a knot form in his throat with sudden emotion welling up. For some reason – he didn’t know why…maybe it was the fear and exhaustion catching up with him – he felt something deeply inside of him. In his ribcage, as he remembered the night Peter had cried and cried and cried and Tony had been able to do nothing to console him through his pain and his upset and Tony was almost smothered by those memories as they ate away and he focused on the fact that the lobby smelled like lavender again, not like the vanilla of their home…

 

_Maria sighed behind him, “Tony…Stop, don’t be ridiculous.”_

_“No,” Tony snapped, glancing at his mother, then back at Howard, “Give me my fucking baby.”_

Tony was smothered by the memories of that.

 

_“I told you, this was all a distraction,” Howard growled, “This entire situation…the baby…a distraction. Maybe I ought to find somewhere else to send you, have you stay on campus of MIT, put some distance. That might finally give you the push you need to focus.”_

Focus.

 

Focus.

 

Tony was trying to focus but he was having trouble breathing as the memory approached and he had to look away from the woman. Her hands were held up almost immediately and he was surprised to see an understanding there. Like knowing. Maybe she could see through the exhaustion that was building a home in his body, through the fear and the pain and the need for an escape that he could not find because this was his life and it was going to be for a long time if he was ever going to get away from Howard and the claws he had dug into everyone around him, even his own mother.

 

God, Tony just wished for once she could have been on his side. He wished for once he could have felt safe in his own house, maybe protected by the woman who had given birth to him. The woman – Barbara – all of her understanding and Tony saw Maria in front of him, as if she could compare and –

 

A key was held out to him.

 

Tony’s eyes continued to burn as she spoke, “Okay…Alright, honey look, room 224.”

 

Confusion closed. Tony adjusted Peter’s wiggly body and he went to reach in his pocket, inhaling deeply as he tried to swallow down the lump in his throat as if it was the fiercest thing he had ever encountered and had the displeasure of knowing and experiencing. A disease.

 

“How much do I owe you?” He asked, and he sounded unreliably young, voice cracking slightly with emotion and Peter even seemed to silence at it.

 

Barbara shook her head and just held the key even closer, leaning over the counter between them as she explained, “First night can be on the house…Just…Go get some sleep, sweetheart. You look like a mess…no offense.”

 

Maybe on a normal day Tony would have been offended. Would have cared. But the gratefulness bled and Tony plucked the keys from her, trying to convey how he felt in his face because he was afraid if he said anything out loud it would be lost, that his voice would break or that he would too. And he didn’t need to do that in front of a complete stranger…He felt almost as if he had done too much already – had been too obvious. There was little chance he would make it out without someone noticing him but his father would come looking. Because Tony was property and now so was Peter and it was Tony’s fault.

 

There were stairs.

 

Pink flowers.

 

Tony’s chest hurt, and Peter cried and cried and cried and Tony just lived in a silence he hadn’t realized had surrounded him until he entered the room and dropped the bag and Tony let a weight settle over him as he bounced Peter in his arms. Barbara’s kindness pushed over an edge, it twisted a knife Tony hadn’t realized was there and he tried to breathe, but it was hard as his chest refused to expand.

 

“Peter,” Tony whispered, and despite his son’s crying he tried to convey the emotion in the words, to make him understand, in their motel room decorated with lime green walls and ugly tan carpet, something he didn’t understand but he welcomed because there was no Howard, “I’m sorry.”

 

Tony worried he would be apologizing to his crying son for the rest of his life.

 

Slowly, he laid down on the bed, holding the boy on his chest, fingers sliding up his back. Through clothing in Peter’s flesh trying to bring comfort.

 

Tony shut his eyes, and the crying tortured but the motel room was theirs…Not Howard’s.

 

Peter could cry in their escape and Tony could wonder if he had made the right decision.


	10. Barbara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s a long story.”
> 
> “A long story,” She echoed, “Usually someone gets upset at the end of those.”

When Tony woke up the next morning, Peter’s crying had dulled and the baby was finally sleeping.

 

It seemed the opposite of everything was Peter. The opposite of bad was Peter, and the opposite of night-time sleep was Peter. A nocturnal baby, with all of his whines and sobs, had been kept in the darkness of the night and Peter’s round face was void of tears and his mouth was settled. Tony looked at him where he laid on the mattress beside the boy, mind thinking of nothing and focused on the dark spot of hair on Peter’s head. Tony wondered if he had changed much, if he was different, Peter seemed the same as the day he was born, but Tony knew that wasn’t true because Peter made sounds when he was awake – his crying was louder and more intense. Peter was different and so was Tony and they were growing together.

 

In retrospect it seemed corny and untrue – but it was the best Tony’s mind could make sense and so he tried. Their silence was comforting, and the sun rose without convincing. As if another day in their loneliness was welcomed and didn’t have to be provoked. Tony thought: His parents surely knew he had run away. And they would surely send someone looking. Tony had no doubt his father’s desire for control and knowledge of where Tony was had to take a firm hold. Tony was losing faith in himself, and second guessing the decisions he had made.

 

It was the threat that had frightened him and he had fought back because he didn’t know what else there was to do about that. About the suffering and aches. About being separated from his own son and put into a life he had not asked for. He just wanted to be a good father for Peter, better than Howard could have been, but it was turning into something more convoluted than wanting to escape. There was the question of school, money, survival. Emancipation, but Tony didn’t know how to prove he could take care of himself and his parents would never allow it if he didn’t find a way to convince them.

 

Peter deserved the whole world and Tony didn’t know how to give it to him. Because with the Stark wealth, yes the material items could be given but not the emotional connection, the other way around brought different results with the same suffering. Tony figured there were no good ideas, there never seemed to be, and he looked over Peter’s head at the phone on the bedside table, taking in deep breaths and he tried to figure out his next move.

 

Slowly he lifted himself from beside the slumbering baby and inched towards it, the cord nearly pulling out of the wall. Tony put his legs on the side of the mattress and placed his elbows on his knees, inhaling deeply as he dialed a familiar number.

 

It rang once, and a voice appeared on the other end.

 

_“Hello?”_

 

“Rhodey…”

 

There was a shaky exhale. Kind of like Tony’s but different. More so relief that flooded from the other end of the line and Tony wished it wasn’t there because that meant Rhodey knew what had happened, or at least a brief interpretation of it. There was no telling what his father had told him, but Tony got a good idea when Rhodey’s voice returned, in a hushed whisper…

 

_“Dude, where the hell are you? Your parents just – they had the cops knocking on my door at like two in the morning…Said you had taken the baby and run away and they checked my whole place. They’re saying they’re worried you’re a danger to yourself and –“_

 

Tony felt hot anger course through him, “A danger to myself? No, the only one who is a danger to me is Howard…He’s a fucking danger to me and my kid. Bullshit…calling the cops…”

 

Somewhere Tony knew it was bound to happen. He was fifteen, a minor, and even if he was the father of the child he was sure there were loopholes. Tony wasn’t familiar with the law, or how it affected runaways, especially runaways with children, but he knew they could be returned to their parents. He had heard about it enough times. Plus his father’s influence on seemingly everyone would pose an issue as well…

 

Tony glanced at the baby behind him. Peter’s eyes were still closed, his tiny chest rising and falling. Tony inhaled bravery and tried to keep it.

 

Rhodey’s voice returned, _“That’s just what happened. I dunno where they’re going to look next but…just tell me, are you safe?”_

 

“I’m safe,” Tony paused, “We’re both safe. Found a quaint little motel place. Course Peter cried most of the night, but it’s a weird bed and…Anyway, I’m exhausted and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go from here.”

 

There was a sigh from the other end, _“What happened?”_

 

“Howard happened,” Tony ground out, as if the name was vile, “He threatened to separate me from Peter, and you know I can take a lot of shit from him, but that just – that’s not happening. I’m not going to let it happen. I’ll start burning down apartment complexes before I let that happen.”

 

_“Tones, don’t be ridiculous.”_

 

“You think that’s ridiculous?” Tony questioned, “You haven’t seen ridiculous yet. If Howard comes near my kid I’m gonna…”

 

His voice trailed off, mostly because he didn’t know what he was going to say. It was as if there was so much emotion in him he just couldn’t contain it. It made him so angry, so wrapped up in rage, that he didn’t know how to make words out of it without his entire skull exploding from the pressure of it and the pure rage. Tony was revolted, and he was broken, and he didn’t know how to be a father anymore than he knew how to be a teenager. It was like being stuck in this inbetween stage of nothing. Of purgatory, and he so desperately wanted to have an identity.

 

Rhodey breathed, _“I think…I think you should at least call them.”_

 

“Why?” Tony hissed.

 

_“Because you’re on your own,”_ Rhodey said, _“You’re on your own…and you’ve got nothing, man. I’m not trying to stomp on you, I’m trying to – I cannot in my right mind leave you out there, and I think there’s a lot more involved here than you know…”_

 

He paused then…

 

_“Listen, you have rights to this kid. I don’t care how much money your dad has, you have rights. Whatever he tried to say it bullshit, and he knows it. I know it. You give him an ultimatum, and if it comes down to it…You go to court, and I will be right beside you. We’ll find a way to get you money for a lawyer or some shit, but you gotta at least try to get him to comply.”_

Tony’s hands shook, “You can’t make Howard comply, Rhodes.”

 

_“I think you can…If you just show him you’re not afraid anymore.”_

The problem was though…Tony was afraid. He was very, very afraid. Howard made his blood boil, he made his hands shake, he made him nauseous and frightened. It was like living in a constant state of fear from someone he was supposed to trust and he prayed to whatever was out there that Peter would never be afraid of him, ever. Tony bit the inside of his mouth though – a part of him knew, he knew he had to try. For Peter’s sake. Avoiding homelessness was the top priority, and if he could make this happen without dragging Rhodey into a custody battle then…so be it…

 

“Okay…okay, I’ll call.”

 

He didn’t say goodbye. He hung up, paused, before typing in the number to their apartment. Tony’s lower lip trembled, but he bit hard before hitting the final digit. It wasn’t what he expected when the week began. Sitting in a small motel room making phonecalls, using himself and his son as leverage to escape Howard Stark and his threats, but it had come to that and maybe he had known all along that was where they were headed. A world of aches and pains, as always.

 

The ringing invited too much time for thinking, but then a voice answered and his skin went cold with recognition and then want to melt into something he recognized as comfort. But it couldn’t be comfort, because he had realized there had been no protection in it. No escape. And maybe he never would escape. He was just in this forever loop of wondering when he could get away from the hands around his throat and clawing up his back like a monster and –

 

_“Tony?”_

 

His mother.

 

Tony didn’t say anything in response at first. Just breathed, deeply, then all at once he let out a breath. He leaned forward, and pinched the bridge of his nose as she continued, _“Tony…is that you? Please say it’s you…I just…”_

 

Knowing it was him from the motel phone must have meant she was sitting there, waiting, worrying. Maria was an unintentional victim in all of this, but a part of him knew she would not have stopped his father. Even if she had tried she would not have succeeded in protecting him, she had failed before. Her silent warfare wasn’t always effective, her lies weren’t always effective against Howard. Therefore, neither were Tony’s because he had learned from her. The baby was still sleeping, the baby was still there, the baby was still his. But he was still Maria’s.

 

Tony felt a knot in his throat.

 

“Hi Mom.”

 

_“Oh thank God,”_ She breathed, _“Tony I…We’ve been worried sick.”_

 

“We,” Tony echoed, an unamused sound on his lips, “We. Mom there is no we. We both know very well why _he_ is worried.”

 

_“Please don’t do that…Don’t do that. Where are you? Tell me where you are, and I can come and we can talk about this in person. We can figure out what’s going on.”_

 

Tony ground out, “I know what’s going on. That’s why I left. Dad told me he was going to separate me from Peter. That’s what you want me to come back to? Being scared that he’s gonna take my kid away from me? That’s bullshit.”

 

_“He’s not going to do that,”_ She replied, _“If you would just let us meet in person –“_

 

“You’re telling me what he fed you,” Tony snapped, “And he’s lying. He’s always lying, it’s what he does.”

 

It sounded like she was going to say something else, but there was movement from the other end. Suddenly another person was speaking to him, after some talking on the other end of the phone that he could not hear. People arguing or something, he wasn’t sure. But then there was sharpness directed towards him, in Howard’s unmistakable tone of rage and frustration, something he had been hearing for as long as he could remember and he felt his brain black out for just a moment as he saw himself as someone small, hearing this, and not understanding what he had done wrong. Of course now he understood, he knew what he had done, but he wasn’t sure if he was the one that had done the bad thing or not.

 

_“Anthony,”_ His father ordered, business, purely, _“Tell us where you are. Right now.”_

 

And Tony couldn’t help it. He laughed, entirely bitter.

 

“And why would I do that?”

 

It was as if he could feel both shock and anger seeping in and a part of Tony felt glad and powerful, but mostly because he had the space between the two of them, and his son was safely beside him on the bed, slumbering through his rage. And no one had a clue, around him. Tony was alone there, and he could feel more powerful than his dad. He could feel more in control. Howard couldn’t take his son if he was back home. Tony tugged at the cord though, as if he was still anxious and he breathed deeply.

 

_“This isn’t the time for one of your games.”_

 

“This isn’t a game,” Tony replied, “This is an ultimatum…Maybe now you’ll see that I’m serious. You’re not taking my kid from me.”

 

_“Give me a break.”_

 

“No, you give me a break!” Tony shouted, standing from the bed, glancing back momentarily to see Peter’s body had jolted, but his eyes remained closed. Tony continued harshly, “You still think I’m messing around? I swear to God – I swear to God, I will disappear off the face of this earth and I will take my kid with me, if you don’t back the hell off. He and I don’t exist to be yours, if anything he’s mine at least until the day he can defend himself from you. So you make your decision, you let me be a father to Peter or you never see us again.”

 

There was silence. For a moment Tony thought maybe his father had hung up because he couldn’t even hear breathing. His heart skipped a few beats as he reevaluated what he had said, but he had meant it. He had meant all of it and he wanted his dad to believe it. To know. The baby wasn’t crying, but Tony still felt guilty for raising his voice, even though he knew Howard wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.

 

Then Howard returned.

 

_“Either tell me where you are, or we’re sending the police.”_

 

Tony ground down on his teeth.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

He slammed the phone down and hung up. His body felt the urge to vomit, but he didn’t because that didn’t seem like the adult, fatherly thing to do. Instead he turned towards the baby, whose eyes had opened during the ruckus. Tony swallowed thickly, before moving around the bed and standing over Peter. The baby blinked, cheeks round and face undisturbed as he kicked his little legs a bit at the sight of someone over him, eyes wide with recognition.

 

Slowly, Tony leaned down, leaning on his elbows. He breathed deeply to calm himself, to calm his anger, to stop from screaming and instead focused on the boy’s eyes. He was fifteen, but when he looked at Peter he felt a lot older. He didn’t know why…He didn’t know what had happened to cause such a thing. Tony breathed, “I guess it’s no secret…but your grandpa is kind of a…terrible person.”

 

He was going to say asshole but he didn’t know when babies started storing that sort of thing and he didn’t want a kid that had to eat soap every other day. He had been that kid, and he couldn’t remember how many nannies had made him put a bar in his mouth.

 

Tony was going to say more, even though Peter wasn’t a great conversational partner, Tony usually found things to say to him. However, there was the tapping of someone knocking on the door that caused him to jump to his feet suddenly and whirl around – eyes wide towards it. Tony inhaled sharply, glancing at the baby. Peter’s little legs were still kicking and Tony moved slowly towards the door, chewing on the inside of his mouth as he did so, taking baby steps, trying not to let his chest implode.

 

Surely….surely not…

 

Tony leaned forward, looking through the peep hole.

 

Much to his relief…standing on the other side was Barbara, hair still pulled back into a bandana.

 

Tony sighed, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open. As soon as he did, he saw she was standing there, smiling with a brown paper bag in her hand. She greeted cheerfully, “Mornin’.”

 

“Good morning…” Tony replied slowly, glancing around almost nervously but trying to do so without her noticing. He figured she did though with the way she raised an eyebrow at him curiously. She stepped forward into the room, without asking and Tony nearly jumped back away from her in surprise.

 

She went on, “Thought you might want some food. Noticed you hadn’t left yet to go get anything or maybe wasn’t feeling dragging the baby out.”

 

Barbara set the bag on the table, before she noticed Peter on the bed. She smiled brightly, the middle-aged woman moving towards the boy quickly. Tony almost stepped forward…even though something in him told him she wasn’t a threat, he still felt nervous. She grinned at the baby, poking his belly and greeting, “And how are we today, Mister Man?”

 

Peter kicked his legs even more in response to the attention. Tony swallowed thickly, and crossed his arms over his chest, before looking down at the carpet and responding softly, “T-thanks…for the food.”

 

“Oh it’s not problem,” She turned back to face him, and suddenly she had a look on her face. Something like his mother would have when he was lying about something, “Gave me an excuse to come and talk to you…See if you slept alright or needed anything. You seemed pretty upset last night.”

 

Tony uncrossed his arms, jaw dropping a bit, “I wasn’t upset.”

 

“Sure,” She tilted her head slightly, “Let’s say that…But it seems kind of strange for a teenager to pop up at my motel at night, with their baby in tow, looking as exhausted as you did. So you can’t blame me for being curious.”

 

Tony blinked a few times. It was as if he wanted to talk to her, but it was wrong and not in the cards. She was a stranger, and he didn’t know her past her first name and the fact that her face was kind and she sounded like she had smoked for a while. Tony moved a bit to the other side of the room, and he no longer feared her being near the baby. His mind warped and he pretended he wasn’t being hunted by his father for just a moment while he tried to calm the racing in his heart and the running of his mind. Things felt relatively hard and he didn’t know why a knot had formed in his throat.

 

He didn’t know why a lot of thing were the way that they were, and yet they just were.

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

“A long story,” She echoed, “Usually someone gets upset at the end of those.”

 

“Usually…” Tony murmured, and he didn’t know why it felt like the floor was opening up around him. She moved forward, and he couldn’t make eye contact, as if he was ashamed of something, but he didn’t know what he had to be ashamed of. This was just another broken piece of him, something he couldn’t fix, and yet she looked at him…not in a pitiful way, but in an understanding way.

 

“Why don’t you eat that food and then you, me, and Mister Man can take a walk.”

 

Tony hesitated. Just in the slightest. A part of him wanted to decline. To sleep forever until the sadness and fear inside of himself subsided. But for some reason his head bobbed up and down and he realized something.

 

He was simply desperate for someone to listen.


	11. Here's Hoping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t know him,” Tony’s voice cracked, “He’s so…he’s so…Everywhere. He’s everywhere, and he controls everything, it almost like…Compulsive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I base Barbara off of Lorelai from Gilmore Girls? 
> 
> Maybe....

Barbara built him a weird baby carrier out of a scarf, blanket thing.

 

Tony was immensely impressed with it, having it tied around his shoulder and under his arm, Peter close to his chest. The baby was snug within it, fingers in his mouth and Tony had never seen anything like it before. Sure he had seen chest carriers, but none like this made so perfectly and Barbara appeared to be a professional at it. The baby hardly squirmed as they made their way into the daylight, both of their stomachs full. Tony’s from the breakfast the woman had brought him and Peter’s from a bottle of formula he had scarfed down upon waking up on the hotel bed. He had missed a feeding because Tony hadn’t wanted to wake him…The baby had slept right through it and Tony wondered if traveling had done that.

 

He wasn’t as intuitive as the nanny was, but he supposed if he couldn’t get his father and mother in his favor he would change that. Actually, either way he was going to change it. Tony wanted to be a father to his child – which meant a nanny didn’t need to be around all hours of the day and night. His brain was just exploding with frustration at the realization that he had gone months without seeing his kid for more than a few hours a day because Howard had ordered it to be so. So he could ‘focus on school’ but now he was missing an entire day hiding from the man and Tony thought Howard was an idiot. His preventative measures had brought greater costs.

 

Tony wanted to graduate from MIT…He really did, but now it seemed…an impossibility.

 

If he was going to be alone, anyway it _seemed_ like an impossibility.

 

He and Barbara strolled down a small walking path near her motel. Apparently joggers used it when staying, and she had gotten it paved after a few too many runners had twisted their ankles while taking it. Tony was grateful for the distraction, truthfully he couldn’t imagine the entire day cooped up in the motel room, and Peter was lying there peacefully against him. It was probably good for babies to get fresh air, the nanny talked about bringing Peter to the park to be pushed in the stroller around and around, and how much he loved it. His wide eyes were staring upward at Tony’s face and Tony could only smile at the squirming baby.

 

Peter was happy.

 

Tony could see it.

 

It was quiet a long time, between himself and Barbara as if they were both just relaxing in the presence of the sunlight. Pebbles occasionally clicked over the ground when they would tap against Tony’s sneakers. His mind would wander over and over again and he couldn’t escape the thoughts of his father, no matter how much he welcomed this peace. Finally though, Barbara spoke from beside him, sounding like she knew everything in the world and for some reason Tony trusted her…

 

“I know it’s probably scary right now.”

 

Tony’s head whipped in her direction. For some reason he was expecting her to have a third eye but also offense formed because he knew he hadn’t been believed and he hated when people could see through him. As if he was offended someone knew he was lying. But it wasn’t really anger that welled up, more so protectiveness as he put an arm up and against Peter’s small back in the sling. She noticed the movement and continued, “Don’t worry…I won’t call anyone. But I do know you can’t be eighteen. However…I understand.”

 

“You understand,” Tony echoed.

 

She chuckled, “Oh yes…You know, the sixties were nefarious for punishing teenage mothers. My parents particularly, wrapped in their bubble of money and high society. Told me they were going to give my daughter up the moment she was born.”

 

Tony’s stomach dropped. He thought back to Mary, how it had been her wish for Peter to grow up with a family that was neither of theirs. To be adopted. And Howard hadn’t allowed it because the thought of someone else having a say in what happened to someone who shared his DNA was just so appalling he had decided their family should suffer, Peter should suffer, and Peter apparently didn’t deserve to be happy with two parents – no he would be raised in a home with unending turmoil and anger and upset and Tony looked away a moment.

 

“You…you were like me?”

 

She sighed, “A lot like you. Scared…Alone and running. People that didn’t understand me around every corner but for some reason they thought they were the most qualified to tell me what to do. It’s hard to be a parent when you still need your parents as well. It’s even harder to have a child when you’re a child yourself.”

 

Tony never liked the thought of being a child. He felt a lot older than he was sometimes, but he supposed that was because he was always surrounded by people older than him. He had graduated early, his best friend was older, the business men at SI were certainly older by many, many years. Tony was just drifting through life disconnected with the fact that he was fifteen-years-old and that was hard enough without the expectations he experienced. They were all just second nature. Tony was public property, that was why they took pictures of him, why he could be asked invasive questions.

 

He felt like he belonged to everyone. Not just to Howard. He smothered in that thought, he wanted to have himself. To be himself. To control what people knew about him and what they didn’t know and what they assumed. But they were always writing new stories, new lies, new assumptions that didn’t even remotely make sense and he wondered if he could rescue Peter from that without taking away every opportunity the kid had.

 

“I raised my daughter, all alone,” Barbara smiled softly, “It was hard. Really hard, there were nights I didn’t know if I was gonna make it through, I didn’t know where we were going to sleep. If we would have a bed. But I did what I had to do and we were happy.”

 

“Where is she now?” Tony asked.

 

“Law school,” Barbara laughed, “It’s ironic, my father was a lawyer. She’s so smart, and kind, and I just could never imagine it, but she has been making it through. Full ride. I can’t help but think sometimes, if I had just taken the help my parents offered down the line, later, if it would have been good for her. If it would have eased some of the strain. High school was rough, she was such a perfectionist, she’d come home crying because she knew if she didn’t get those scholarships there was no way for us to afford it.”

 

Barbara casted him a side glance.

 

“My daughter is brilliant,” She stated firmly, “But it would have saved her a lot of heartache if I had swallowed my pride from time to time. My parents were no longer trying to control us, I think they genuinely regretted their decision and wanted to help and yet I couldn’t accept it because I had decided I needed to do everything on my own. Because of that I never got my degree. Not that I don’t like running this place – I love it, but I would be lying if I said there weren’t things that I missed out on. Things that I would have done differently, had I been given the chance.”

 

Tony swallowed…

 

“If you’re trying to say I should go back –“

 

“I’m not saying that,” Barbara insisted, pausing and turning to face him, “I’m not saying that at all. I don’t know what situation you’re coming from, I don’t know what you’ve been through to make you run. What I’m saying is…Look for the things that can be fixed before you rip the bandaid off. See if you can get what you want first. What you want for yourself and for Mister Man there. And if that still involves running…then honey, I will buy you a bus ticket myself.”

 

Tony felt his throat close. Like words had disappeared. His mind looped in circles and he thought deeply. He didn’t know – he didn’t know how to go about all of that…How to think properly and how to see things the way she was describing. Think before running, Tony had run. Because no one had been listening. But then he realized…He could always run, he supposed. He could always go. No one could truly ever stop him.

 

And if his parents wanted him…If Howard wanted him…Howard would have to be the one to swallow his own pride and cooperate.

 

But Tony didn’t know if that was possible. He didn’t know if Howard was capable of doing that. Of participating in such boundaries, of stepping away, of letting Tony breathe while still allowing Tony to reap the benefits of their wealth and their company and MIT. It would give Tony far too much independence, independence that Howard had never offered him in all of his years on this earth. Peter made a small cooing sound, he seemed so happy to be just a little human lying there, Peter didn’t know yet, he wasn’t old enough to know and Tony wanted all of it resolved before his son was old enough to be aware of the situation he had been born into.

 

Tony didn’t want those memories tainted for his own kid.

 

He wanted them perfect.

 

Maybe they never could be perfect. It was just a childish dream of something better for a human being small enough to fit in a sling on his chest. They weren’t going to be perfect, Peter would grow up eventually, Peter and him would probably argue. But it wouldn’t be like Howard, Tony wouldn’t let it be like Howard. And if he was going to prevent that he was going to have to take control somehow. Take control of the situation even if he wasn’t sure how to go about doing it. Negotiating with Howard just seemed so impossible to him though. It seemed so empty and void and nothing like he could even remotely theorized to be…Real.

 

“You don’t know him,” Tony’s voice cracked, “He’s so…he’s so…Everywhere. He’s everywhere, and he controls everything, it almost like…Compulsive.”

 

Barbara’s eyes were knowing, understanding, she understood and God Tony hadn’t realized how much he longed for someone that could do that for him.

 

Tony went on, “He wouldn’t even let the mother of my kid be around…wouldn’t let her put Peter up for adoption so he could be happy with a mom and a dad, purely because he needed to be able to control where his lineage was or some shit. It’s nauseating and wrong, like Peter is property, an opportunity for him to get it right this time. To figure out how to perfect his formula for the next great Stark. I didn’t turn out right, but my kid might, right?”

 

His breathing was shaky, he looked down at Peter and his face contorted as he saw his vision blur with tears, just looking. Just seeing a round face that had no idea he was being used for something. Some kind of end goal and Peter was going to bring that result, was going to carry a legacy. Tony shut his eyes, he couldn’t look any longer. Peter looked too much like himself, too much like Howard, he had hoped Peter wouldn’t.

 

“My kid isn’t a weapon,” Tony ground out, “He isn’t…he isn’t some brain that needs to be used to build the next big thing. But that’s all he is to my father. An _opportunity_.”

 

Tony paused.

 

“A creator.”

 

“And what are you to your father?”

 

Tony scoffed, “A mistake.”

 

“Obviously not, if you have to hide from him,” Barbara hummed, as if musing something Tony could not see in the vastness of being lost. She shrugged her shoulders, “You must be more than that or he wouldn’t care you were gone…So, find what you are, and use that to your advantage. Use that to get what you need.”

 

Tony didn’t know what he needed. Maybe a home, to finish school, something that didn’t require him and Peter to hide in motels until the money would eventually run out. Peter deserved all of the opportunities life had to offer, without the limitations of running or the limitations of Howard Stark. A nice medium place that Tony couldn’t give him on his own. He swallowed, looked at Barbara and he replied, “I don’t know how.”

 

“You’ll know,” Barbara said, “Sometimes, we have to use what we have to get what we need. You are your father’s son…Clearly he wants you back. Don’t give him the option to keep you if you aren’t getting what it is you and Mister Man need. I think parents tend to forget to fear their teenagers, their wills, and their ability to think for themselves. You’re a lot more capable than you think, than they think.”

 

She smiled, “If he doesn’t want you to leave again…He’ll have to negotiate. No one can really be locked up and I have a feeling you don’t have the type of father that will lock you in a cage.”

 

Tony wasn’t so sure. He wouldn’t put it past Howard.

 

But, confidence swelled nonetheless, new, something he had only felt a few times when thinking of a conversation with his dad. Like this never ending cycle of fear and hurt was coming around to smack him in the face but he finally had the knowledge he needed to shove the hand away and to scream and to hit back. Peter made another sound, and Tony looked at his face that was always so full of trust and just wonderment, like all that was around him was new and improved and Tony wished he could see things that way.

 

He wished.

 

But he supposed he could make it that way if he truly tried.

 

“Just remember one thing,” Barbara ordered, and Tony looked at her, his eyes round and wide and pleading to know. It seemed she held all that he needed to understand this world he had been born into, even though she seemed so different from him. The birds were chirping and Tony felt almost sick, but strangely optimistic as she went on…

 

“That baby is yours.”

 

His eyes watered.

 

Tony felt like someone had shoved his chest, but it didn’t hurt. It was like a realization that ever since being in the hospital that day, ever since holding Peter in his arms for the first time, he had been wishing and waiting and wanting for someone to tell him that. For someone to tell him that Peter was actually his and to let him believe it. Without the looming threat that someone could take him away. Peter was his. He should have been Mary’s too and Tony wished he could call and apologize. Because he was so terribly sorry for what his father had done and maybe one day he would actually get the chance to say sorry for real.

 

“Thank you,” Tony murmured, “Thank you…”

 

She smiled, squeezing his shoulder as they began to move down the path, back towards the motel. There was a silence that was exchanged, one that was calm and welcoming to Tony after all of the thoughts that had been plaguing him. All of the fears. Peter continued to squirm in the sling and they emerged out of the mouth of the trail onto the sidewalk and stepping down into the motel’s parking lot. Just as they did, flashing caught Tony’s attention and his head snapped up, towards the lobby of the motel several feet away from them.

 

Both he and Barbara paused and the woman muttered under her breath…

 

“Oh, what the shit?”

 

Police cars. Two of them, sitting outside of the lobby. Tony swallowed thickly, his head snapping toward Barbara. She breathed out slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder and she squeezed again, before she ordered, “Go get your stuff…I’ll see what they want.”

 

Run. Run. Run.

 

Tony’s feet moved before his brain had fully processed the order and he ran, holding Peter close in the sling as he rushed up the stairs and around the corner. His hands shook as he used the key to open the door to the room, and it flew open, the weight keeping it from slamming against the wall behind it. Tony quickly whirled and shut the door behind himself, breathing heavily. Peter had begun to make unhappy sounds, probably from the sprinting up the stairs and the tossling his father had done. Tony shushed him quietly, turning to the room and beginning to throw his things in his bag, money included…

 

“Damn it, shit, shit, shit,” Tony whispered, eyes burning. He knew deep down why the police were there. There were very few questions to him – unless it was some awful coincidence. His dad knew too many people, they were always around, Tony was a minor and he was pretty sure they could bring him home against his will if parents requested, though he couldn’t be sure. But they had come, and they were going to bring him back if Barbara couldn’t make them leave.

 

Peter continued his unhappy sounds and Tony was chewing the inside of his mouth so hard he was sure it was going to bleed. He looked down at the baby, the round eyes filled with unshed tears as if even Peter knew it was not the time to cry but he was having such a hard time holding them back. Sometimes when he looked in the baby’s face he forgot he was only an infant because it appeared like he knew so much more than he let on. Than someone so small could possibly know.

 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry, Pete.”

 

He had to apologize. For what, he didn’t know. Maybe for failing so quickly.

 

Barbara’s conversation rung deeply, but also the thoughts of what was going to happen. He was going to have to look in Howard’s face again. He was going to have to speak to him without the safety of a phone between them, and how was Tony supposed to be brave with a man that demanded only perfection? It was as if he had been conditioned to drown anything that wasn’t better than great, to put it away, so Howard could not see it. And running away from home with his baby was not…it wasn’t perfection, it wasn’t greatness, it didn’t improve the Stark name. In fact it tainted it. Which was probably why there had been no news coverage of his disappearance.

 

His father wanted him back, but not badly enough to make them look bad.

 

Tony felt dizzy. He slung his bag over his shoulder and he moved towards the door with wide strides. Just as he went to grab the handle, his body told him not to run, but he had to. He had to go. He wasn’t brave enough to negotiate, running was the only way out. His only way out. Peter’s only way out. But just as he yanked it open, three figures appeared on the other side, and Tony felt bile rise in his throat.

 

Two officers in uniform.

 

Standing behind them was Barbara.

 

There was this moment where everyone was just looking at each other. But one of the men turned to Barbara and had this annoyed look on his face, as he asked, “You were saying? Don’t you realize it’s against the law to harbor a run away, lady?”

 

Barbara’s eyes narrowed. Tony could tell she was about to say something, something that might make things worse for her. Tony felt frozen to the spot, as the other office stepped forward and took him by his arm. Tony held up a hand towards the man looking at Barbara and he exclaimed, “She didn’t know! She…She thought I was eighteen, I told her I was eighteen.”

 

God, it felt like Mary all over again, just much less adult.

 

“She didn’t know – she didn’t, I swear….I…”

 

Tony turned to the officer holding his arm and he asked in a weak tone…

 

“Did my dad send you?”

 

The phone call. It made more sense now, his threat to contact and send the police. Howard Stark wasn’t an idiot trapped in the dark ages. He knew how to do such things, he knew how to hire people to do it for him if he didn’t feel like it on that particular day. Tony could imagine their conversation being recorded, officers around, standing, being paid to listen in as his mother tried to speak calmly to him. Maria playing into – fuck he had been so stupid. So stupid. Tony’s eyes watered at the thought. Maybe it hurt more when he knew that Maria knew. Maybe it hurt more than Howard ever could.

 

The officer said nothing.

 

“He did…” Tony murmured, “Of course he did…”

 

Because he could never let go. Howard could never let go of him, no matter how far he went, no matter where he took Peter. Howard would always find him. Tony tried to find it in his will to fight. To start screaming and kicking. But Peter was on his chest, and he was just so damn tired. Instead when the officer tugged him forward, Tony went with him. Allowed the other officer to take his bag, he supposed, just in case as he was led down the hall and a few people peeked outside their doors to see what was going on. Tony ignored them, as Barbara cursed out the officer following behind Tony and the other one…

 

“Wow, some goddamn heroes you two are,” She snapped, “Comin in and takin a kid that’s obviously terrified to be in his home. I’m real glad my tax dollars go towards this shit!”

 

Tony hit the bottom step and they moved into the parking lot as he called over his shoulder, “Barbara.”

 

She continued her rant, “Are you even certified to work in this jurisdiction? Or is this a money thing? Of course it would be, or garbage –“

 

“Barbara!” Tony tried again.

 

They stopped in front of one of the police cars. Barbara paused, breathing heavily from her rant as the officer not holding onto Tony rolled his eyes in irritation. This all felt, for lack of a better word, comedic, if Tony wasn’t imploding from the prospect of being returned to his father and their house of horrors.

 

“I’m gonna be okay,” Tony tried to sound sincere, even if his voice was shaking, “Alright? I’m gonna…I’m gonna be _okay_.”

 

She looked like she wanted to argue…As if she had more to say to him. Like his words made sense, but she didn’t like it and Tony felt like – he felt like all of that screaming, at the officer…Well, he wished it had been Maria. It was like having a mother, finally, that would scream for him. That would risk getting arrested for him. And this woman barely knew him, they had only just met and yet…and yet she was there for him. Tony’s eyes burned more, and he forced a smile.

 

“I’m a lot more capable than I realize…right?”

 

Tony couldn’t tell if he believed those words. But Barbara’s face calmed a bit. She looked so sorry, so lost, but her head nodded up and down. Tony continued to smile through the unshed tears as a hand was placed on his head and he was pushed downward, gently into the back of the police car. He adjusted Peter in his arms, against his chest as the door shut and he looked out the window at her.

 

Bravery felt far away, but when he looked in her eyes, he could feel hers.

 

Maybe he could borrow it.


	12. Failure of the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’ll bring you right back,” Howard gritted, “I have people everywhere. You’re a minor with no income. No nothing. So stop acting like you have any say in this, and I might just hear your side of this inexcusable behavior.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for Howard to be schooled, guys? 😂

Tony didn’t know what to expect.

 

This was way out of their range, he supposed, in all of his years being Howard Stark’s son. The entirety of his physical life, and for the rest of it he would be dealing with this. It was almost as if their box had imploded, their questions had subsided. There was no more communicating and Tony didn’t know if things had ever been this bad. A part of him would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid, he was absolutely scared shitless. But Barbara…Knowing what she had done, what she had escaped, what she had managed to do…It pushed something forward. All of those broken pieces inside of himself turned into fire laced rebellion.

 

The way things were, the way things had to be, the way they pressed.

 

Peter squirmed, and Tony reminded himself why he had to be brave. He wondered if every other teenager in the world feared their father to the degree that he feared his. He wondered what it was like, not to go home and feel like one was in a war zone. He wondered about all of it, and it just never seemed to find justification in his mind. Tony looked down at his son, and he couldn’t imagine ever being cruel to him, ever becoming so angry, ever downright stomping on his rights as a human being. Yet, Tony’s father managed to muster such energy everyday and it made him wonder if Howard even loved him at all, or if it was some twisted sense of love that tortured them.

 

Everyday felt closer to that bad place at the base of his skull. Where he would go when he would get too far outside of himself, where he would go when his chest could hardly expand and homework was laid out in front of him with his father’s ever looming shadow rushing him to get finished, to work on the next project, to retain and learn more. To be perfect, to be the next inventor, to be the NEXT. And Tony could hardly see what was next anymore, unless it involved Peter. Peter, he could see so many nexts within and that was what he wanted it to be. That was how he could survive.

 

Barbara. He remembered Barbara. She had survived, on her own, and if it came down to it…Tony could as well.

 

If he had to.

 

He could.

 

_“One day you’re going to thank me for all of this, you know?”_

_Tony looked over at his father, ten-years-old, face tear stained from hours awake and studying. They were pushing, he needed to graduate early, needed to get to high school, needed to move and move and move. Read more, write more, watch more educational videos and attend more classes. Get more credit hours, building things until his fingers were raw from the wires popping him so many times. His face was still round, and his mouth was filling with residual saliva from crying over the pages._

_His father continued when Tony could not muster a verbal response past the pain dribbling in his brain and chest and anxiety blooming so brightly he could hardly think straight._

_“You’ll thank me. I wish I had someone to thank.”_

Tony had wanted to scream, had wanted to make him understand he could thank no one for those long restless nights in which he tried to sleep, but the worry kept him awake. He could thank no one for the migraines, for the caffeine, for when he was thirteen and that kid started letting him buy pills off of him, pills that would keep him awake. Alive, really. His heart would race, and he was thirteen – thirteen buying fucking drugs from an older teenager in his classroom and he had never realized how screwed up that was until he thought – he never wanted Peter to do such a thing.

 

It was so messed up.

 

The officers in the vehicle were silent. Tony didn’t ask how they knew his father, he didn’t ask how much Howard had probably paid them. Truthfully, he didn’t care how much he was worth to Howard. If he was worth anything, maybe Howard would have come himself. If he even cared, he’d actually be there. It was just plain logic.

 

Money was not a must in their household, they weren’t running out anytime soon.

 

So Tony wasn’t worth much of it.

 

Tony questioned himself, checked the courage that was still rather weak but he was trying to ignite it more viciously. He reminded himself why he was doing this, why he had to stand up for himself – for Peter. He replayed that over and over again, during the drive that was over an hour, away from the middle of nowhere back to the city where he knew the penthouse was – big and empty and void. Where he knew his mother and father would be, where Howard would be waiting to crucify and where his mother would be waiting to remain as silent as she always did, to be passive in the mistreatment of her son and grandson.

 

Peter was silent most of the trip, was still full from the bottle earlier and seemingly content to be jostled about in the back of the cruiser a bit, rocked into a lull of sleep. Unaware of their possible sentencing that was looming on the horizon as they neared the skyscrapers in the distance. Tony envied that bliss, feared it, to be holding someone so defenseless and unknowing of what was going to happen. If Howard made some sort of decision – if he decided he was going to take Peter, where would the buffer be? Where would Tony fall into all of that?

 

Tony supposed, nowhere. He would be nothing. Just a stain on Howard’s reputation, not even a father to Peter, just someone who was allowed to visit every once in a while. Every few weeks, days months, he didn’t know, and he smothered. Tony slid his finger over the side of Peter’s face, a silence apology for this life he had been born into. Tony knew there were worse things than being born into billions of dollars, but there were far better things as well. Like loving families, support, comfort. Not having to worry everyday that the entire world was going to be yanked from ones grasp and handed to someone else.

 

All because of a controlling man with a temper and a need to hold the world in the palm of his hand.

 

They rolled to a stop at the bottom of the penthouse and Tony mentally prepared himself for what was to come. Maybe the officers were sorry, because they glanced back at Tony, looked at him – Not like some kind of stupid teenager or a villain, but like a human being. They couldn’t truly be sorry though, they had apparently taken whatever story or bribe Howard had sold them. Had taken this opportunity. Peter made a low humming sound and Tony looked, then the officers were getting out, opening the door, and escorting him from the vehicle towards the prison.

 

Penthouse, prison, whatever it was. A tower.

 

They took the elevator up. Tony pretended not to feel his bravery waning. His fear molting. He pretended that this wasn’t scary. Not in the slightest. It couldn’t be. The lights climbed, and so did they, up and up and up ascending into a new-found battle. A new fight that was brewing and nearing them. So they just got closer, and he waited for it to come true.

 

They emerged at the top, the elevator doors opening into the foyer, and then leading into the living area. The house was eerily quiet, silence was their disease, after all. Always had been for the Stark family. There were two figures there, both of which stood when they entered. His parents, moving towards him, his mother particularly. She approached him without hesitating, her eyes wide and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, whispering as if she had been holding her breath, “Oh thank God.”

 

“Not really that, Mom,” Tony muttered, looking at his father over her shoulder as his mother was careful not to squash Peter between them, “Probably should be thanking these… _awesome_ …police officers. Wonder how they found me?”

 

When she pulled away, there was instant guilt. It made Tony uneasy and nauseous, the theory true, of course it had been. She had known what she was doing. Tony’s eyes were hard and she placed a hand on his cheek. He didn’t pull away, but his face remained unchanged and angry as she breathed, “Tony…We were worried…”

 

“Right, worried,” Tony scoffed, “Maybe you were, but him? He just wanted his property back.”

 

Howard sighed, then looked at the officers…

 

“You’re excused.”

 

_Excused._

Tony laughed, pulling from his mother as the cops left. He nearly cackled, but venom lived behind each syllable, “You’re excused! Are you serious!? That definitely sounds right. Hey, when did you become the chief of police? Because last time I checked – “

 

“Would you stop?” Howard bit out, “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Do you have any idea how hard we had to work to keep this from the press?”

 

“God forbid they know Howard Stark is an absolute dictator who threatened to take his son’s kid from him!” Tony shouted, moving even further from his mother and ignoring his guilt when Peter’s tiny body flinched from the volume, “I am really just confused, honestly, this is…This is a clusterfuck, the three of us. Always running around each other, treating each other like garbage – Mom you definitely aren’t without blame, how could you?”

 

His eyes found hers. Hers filled to the brim with unshed tears, but he ignored it. Ignored all of it. Why should he soften his blows when she had done nothing to soften Howard’s besides coddle him but ignoring where the pain was coming from? The sources of it? How his father had put his hands on him the night they had found out about Peter, nothing had come of it. Absolutely nothing had come from that slap on the cheek.

 

“He hit me,” Tony continued, “He fucking hit me and you scolded him for 2.5 seconds before you turned your back and tried to defend his actions. Bullshit.”

 

Then he turned to Howard, who stood, hands pressed in fists at his sides and Tony went on, “And you just…Wanna threaten and throw money around and act like you run the entire world. You’re a monster, the kind of shit people have nightmares about and for what? Control?”

 

“For this family,” Howard ground out, “Everything I do is for you and for this family. This business, and ensuring our futures and the future of our name.”

 

“And putting a baby up for adoption so he could have a chance at a normal life didn’t fit that plan?” Tony’s voice was shaking but he straightened his shoulders, despite the fact Peter was now squirming.

 

“It was a risk I wasn’t going to take.”

 

“Get off your high horse!” Tony’s voice cracked, he stepped back when Howard stepped forward. Not out of fear, but just not wanting to be silenced. He wanted to finish what he had to say. He wanted them to have to listen to him, it was only fair after he had listened to them for so long. His mother was crying, he still couldn’t look at her, even if he knew what he said was the truth. That loyalty couldn’t just die at a moment’s notice, but the loyalty to Howard had shattered with the threat of Peter being taken from him.

 

Tony sounded almost shrill, as if Barbara was speaking through him, courageously, “This is my kid!”

 

“Your kid,” His father echoed with an unamused laugh, “And how do you suppose you would take care of him? Take care of yourself? With no money, no education, nothing –“

 

“I’d do it before I’d come back here,” Tony interrupted sharply, raising his index finger, “I swear to God. I fucking swear – I will leave.”

 

Howard looked unmoving, stone. He didn’t move forward again, maybe afraid Tony would turn and bolt and he would if he had to. He would run, and squirm, and fight. He would do what he had to do to escape Howard. To escape everything. It was like a light, burning and turning into fire and all of those years spent fearing his father was escaping into a cloud of smoke with the realization that the survival of his relationship with Peter was at stake. The childhood he wanted for Peter was at stake. The freedom for his son, away from Howard and with happiness and love and comfort – all of it was at stake and it felt as if everything – everything he had once felt digging into him and holding him back melted into something.

 

The something he had seen in Barbara’s eyes. Something he wondered – well he wondered if it could exist into him too. Then that wonder turned into knowing, because it was there, it was there, it was _there_ and he knew. He knew too far downward. An explosive, inwardly born detail of rage.

 

Peter was not going to live like that. Truthfully, Tony didn’t have to either.

 

They were themselves and Peter was his son.

 

“They’ll bring you right back,” Howard gritted, “I have people everywhere. You’re a minor with no income. No nothing. So stop acting like you have any say in this, and I might just hear your side of this inexcusable behavior.”

 

Tony’s teeth showed. Not in a snarl. But bravery, maybe a bit of stupidity. A laugh, lacking humor, but it was there, and it grew. Not insane, just short and to the point and a promise on his lips as he tried to calm his squirming infant with a hand to his back. Saving him – that was what he wanted. What he needed. Peter needed saving and Tony couldn’t be a fifteen-year-old scared little kid anymore. He had to be more than that.

 

“And I’ll run again,” Tony said, “I don’t care how far you send me. I’ll run again, and again, and again. You can ship me off to the middle of the jungle for all I care, and you know why? The world knows what you are – a hard business man. Cold. You always talk about protecting this family name, but just wait until I drop a nice little exclusive with every news outlet in the country describing how my father stole his newborn grandson from a life with two parents, how he threatened his only son into silence, how he separated his son from his baby because he felt a teen father could never be competent enough to make his own decisions.”

 

Howard’s face changed. The stoicism altered into something…

 

And Tony felt brave.

 

“This is my kid,” Tony huffed again, “And I’ll make sure the whole world knows it. And I’ll also make sure they know what the Starks really are. A family of monsters, threatening mothers with jail time, threatening teenage sons with separation. All of it. And you know why they’re going to believe me?”

 

Tony looked between them.

 

“Because you both raised me. I know exactly how to play with them, I’ve been watching you guys do it for years. Except I’ve got the benefit of a baby face on my side and I bet I could cry on demand.”

 

They stood there, silence. Howard stared at Tony, his face almost – Tony didn’t know if he had ever seen it like that before. Maybe not defeated but something bordering on a business deal going south and having to rethink an entire plan. Tony could have laughed if it wasn’t so smothering there in that moment. Where he was standing with his mother’s tears touching her face, her silence breathing as she whispered, “Tony…”

 

“No Mom,” Tony replied sharply, “I’m done.”

 

He then looked at his father.

 

“So…What? You ready to fight me for the rest of your natural life? Wanna send me off somewhere to be shocked into submission?”

 

“What do you think I am?” Howard growled.

 

Tony shook his head, “A man who hits his kid.”

 

He then shrugged, “I’m not sure what you’re capable of. I just had to threaten to expose you to stop you from looming over me. But I’m done being scared of you. Peter doesn’t need a father who’s scared to stand up for him.”

 

Tony looked blatantly at Maria. He didn’t hate her. Maybe he didn’t hate either of them, and maybe that was what made everything so hard. It was as if he was smothering beneath wanting to be something for them to be proud of and almost boulders of shame but also knowing he didn’t deserve to be treated like shit anymore and that his mother should have done more to protect him. He had been rationalizing the verbal assaults and the silence from his mother for years and now, looking into Peter’s face, he knew for a fact there was no excuse for any of it.

 

Loving a kid so much, he knew –

 

Fuck, did he know.

 

Now.

 

“Let me go,” Tony’s voice was no longer hard, but it wasn’t pleading either. It was an order, “Let me go…Let me keep getting my education. If that’s what you want. But let me see my fucking kid. Let me come home to him. Let me spend time with him when I can. If you want me to help pay for things – fine, but don’t work me so much I can never put my hands on him.”

 

Howard looked him in the eyes. Tony inhaled.

 

“Let me go…And if you still want to see me succeed then help me, don’t strangle me.”

 

“Haven’t I been helping you?” Howard questioned, but it didn’t sound like complete ignorance, just not complete understanding either. “Child care, a place to live, everything that child could ever want. He’s far better off than most infants with a fifteen-year-old father.”

 

Tony stated firmly, “I want to be a father to him. Not some guy who shows up every once in a while, holds him, and walks out. I want to be exhausted at night, taking care of it. I want that, because at least I know that’s what a father does. I’ll go to school just…just let me come home to him…”

 

“And what?” Howard questioned, “You can have your perfect little domestic life?”

 

“Howard,” Maria snapped.

 

Both Tony and Howard looked at her. Maybe sometimes she was a forgotten factor in their conversations. She breathed, “Just…shut up for a minute.”

 

Tony could have laughed, but he felt too anxious. But something was breaking in that wall between them. His threats were being taken seriously, maybe his father was having visions of all the magazine covers with devil horns drawn on every single photo of Howard Stark in the city: The Rich Man Who Took his Grandson. There were few things that Howard hated more than that…

 

Bad publicity.

 

Bad names for the company.

 

Bad things tied to the Starks.

 

“Well?” Tony asked, jaw set.

 

“Well…” Howard would never not look like a stone-cold rock, ready to be thrown into ones skull. Tony readied himself for a sprint, a run, he would take the stairs if he had to in order to escape the punishment Howard would have for him for being so bold. A life of running sounded horrendous…But it sounded better than being locked up by Howard, watching his son grow up in a dark and damning shadow.

 

More moments ticked by. Over and over and over again…

 

Then the words that ripped the rug from under Tony’s feet.

 

“I’ll mull over it.”

 

And Tony…Tony didn’t think he had _ever_ heard his father utter those words in his life.


	13. Best Birthday Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS CRACK FIC WITH A PLOT IS OVER! I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm so happy we made it here! What a roller coaster. I can't thank you all enough for being here and reading and commenting you lovely little creatures gahhhh! I'm so thankful!❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Peter turned one on a hot August day.

 

Tony’s alarm clock with the giant red letters blared in the early hours of that morning. He was quick to switch it off, as not to wake the baby sleeping in a crib a few feet away. The apartment was smothered in quiet, the sun barely peeking in the windows as it kissed the carpet and crawled across the ground. Not a threat, but a promise, and Tony kicked the blankets off, feeling rather smothered despite the AC that was blaring. When he glanced at the baby, he was unmoving, Peter’s eyes closed where he lay on his back, hands lax.

 

Tony desired the stillness of these mornings, though they didn’t feel burdensome when they were not like this. He was thankful – in a dire sort of way. One that screamed this hadn’t always been their opportunity. Life hadn’t always offered such options as Tony crept from the room, shutting the door softly behind himself. In some far off life, Peter would be sleeping in a room with a nanny, in a penthouse – shared with his mother and father and the laws that came with that. Tony whirled, going into the room across the hall, mercilessly switching on the lights.

 

“Wakey-wakey, Rhodes!”

 

The figure laying sprawled on the bed sat up in a whirl, heaving, shock evident on his face as if Tony had just blared a horn through his room. Tony crossed his arms over his chest and grinned madly at his best friend, waiting for him to gather his bearings. The past few months as roommates had been fun and yet Tony knew he did too much to torture his friend. But there wasn’t much he could do to chase the other off and sharing the rent was a part of the deal. When Tony had moved out – his parents…Well, his father had made it clear that if he refused their roof, he refused their rent money.

 

So, there was Rhodes. A two-bedroom apartment. And a part time job in the engineering building sorting through papers.

 

Luckily, Tony’s mother paid for childcare, food…Tony wasn’t completely drowning and a part of the deal was that he would still be present during board meetings at SI at least once a week. Tony didn’t argue – it was a small price to pay for their new found freedom. To be out of Howard’s clutches. He could survive him for a few hours a week if it meant such as that.

 

When Rhodey calmed a bit in his breathing, Tony continued to smile, saying, “Oh good, you’re up. C’mon, we’ve got planning to do.”

 

Rhodey groaned, pressing his hand to the side of his face as he looked over at the clock. He made a disgruntled sound once more, shaking his head back and forth before muttering under his breath and throwing himself back onto the mattress, “It’s six in the morning!”

 

“Yeah, which means we’ve only got six hours until Peter’s first birthday party,” Tony huffed, “C’mon Uncle Rhodey, it’s your duty as first person in line to help me make this perfect. I can’t go pick up the food and the cake, someone has to stay here with Pete, and I’ve got a list of things I need you to find for me. So – rise and shine!”

 

Tony walked forward, grabbing a discarded pillow from the floor before chunking it at Rhodey’s face. When Rhodey still didn’t move, Tony approached, grabbing the pillow again before picking it up and smacking Rhodey two full times. After the third time – Rhodey shot forward off the bed, a hand raised in retaliation. Tony screamed, turning on his heels and running out of the room…

 

“Coward!” Rhodey called.

 

Tony peeked out from around the doorframe, frowning deeply. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to get Rhodey to be on his side and have his help through this entire process, but it was funny nonetheless. Just…Tony knew he should have asked the night before when everything could have been fresh. Maybe when a conversation about it could have been easier and Rhodey wasn’t all cranky. Neither of them woke up particularly chipper in the morning, Tony before his coffee, which was probably what had caused the assault in the first place with the pillow. Lack of caffeine had that effect. Rhodey though…Rhodey had no excuse other than the fact that he was forced to have Tony for a roommate. Maybe the side effects were similar.

 

“Rhodey,” Tony’s lower lip poked out, “Man…You gotta help me. I gotta make this great.”

 

Rhodey stared, sighing and shaking his head back and forth. Tony could tell he didn’t understand, but he didn’t know if he expected him to from the beginning. It was kind of confusing for him too, all of this – this first birthday for a child. Tony was sixteen and had a one-year-old and that in itself was absolutely insane. An entire year of terror, of drama, of suffering and being terrified around every corner that his son was going to be taken from him and maybe that was a part of it. This was a celebration for him too.

 

Tony and Peter had made it this far together.

 

That was worth celebrating.

 

“Why, Tones?” Rhodey questioned, “He’s only a year old, he won’t remember it.”

 

Tony swallowed, “But I will.”

 

The skepticism, the confusion, it melted away and Rhodey scratched the back of his neck as if thinking deeply about wanting to go back to sleep, but there was understanding there. Maybe he didn’t truly get where Tony was coming from, but he comprehended it enough to have sympathy. Empathy might have been a better word, Tony wasn’t sure, but he knew he had won when Rhodey pushed himself to his feet, dropping the evil pillow on the floor.

 

“Fine,” Rhodey agreed, rolling his eyes when Tony grinned widely, “But you owe me gas money. God knows where you plan to send me all over the city.”

 

…

 

Tony gave Rhodey and list and set him out on the errands.

 

He really would have done it if he had a car, but cars weren’t something his family indulged in and it was weird considering all of their money. Maybe one day he’d collect them, because he could appreciate a good car and admire it. It made it inconvenient on days like that day, days where he really needed to get around with public transportation or something because Peter hated the train. Absolutely screamed his head off and Tony was too prideful to ask his father and mother to send a car.

 

Peter woke up about thirty minutes after Rhodey left, squealing and ready for the day. Sometimes he was all Tony and rolled over, hair messy and face grumpy but then other days he was some other creature entirely and entered the world happier than anything and already full of energy. That day it was like he knew it was his birthday, because he grinned at Tony with his mouth that was still missing several teeth.

 

Tony gave him bananas for breakfast, and dry cheerios. The bananas themselves made enough of a mess and it felt like he could give Peter crackers and he’d find a way to turn it into a pile of messy spaghetti. But again – the kid’s birthday allowed for such things without scolding. Something Tony wasn’t so good at to begin with. A few weeks prior, Peter had tried to stick his fingers into a light socket and when Tony had shouted out of panic, Peter had started wailing from being startled and Tony thought he’d never get up off the floor until Rhodey got home and kicked him in the side. Peter had already forgotten about it, but Tony clung to that fact that he had shouted and Peter had cried.

 

_“Why are you crying?”_

_“I’m not crying.”_

_“Yes you are, you’ve been laying there for twenty minutes,” Rhodey sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You know it’s not a crime to freak out when your kid is about to electrocute himself.”_

_“You didn’t see how he looked at me,” Tony lifted his head from where he was still laying on the floor in front of the outlet, “It was like I had just ripped his heart out and stomped on it!”_

_“You’re being dramatic.”_

_“Rhodes, side with me.”_

Peter squealed from the high chair, catching Tony’s attention. He blinked a few times, before tilting his head and asking, “Did you eat those cheerios or shove them in the seat under your butt?”

 

Peter was creative like that.

 

The baby continued to slap his hands on top of the plastic high chair table and Tony grimaced, knowing full and well when he picked him up there would be crushed bananas and such underneath him. Sure enough, when he lifted Peter, half of his breakfast was wedged between his body and smushed into the seat and Tony sighed, holding the baby out away from him and making eye contact.

 

“Not proper etiquette,” Tony hummed, “Grandma would be most displeased.”

 

His mom hated being called Grandma. She wanted something along the lines of Nonna. But Tony found it so funny, he was trying to drill Grandma into Peter’s head before his mother got the chance to do so. Howard – in boring fashion opted for Grandfather and Tony felt like that was almost an overbearing frightening name. It fit. Both hilariously and sadly, but Tony didn’t plan for Peter to be exposed to Howard on too many occasions. He just wasn’t about it.

 

Tony hooked Peter under his arm and the baby continued his slapping, except this time on Tony’s shoulder. Tony patted his back and commented, “You’re really hyper today.”

 

He set him down on the tile floor of the kitchen and Peter immediately plopped down onto his bottom. Peter had started toddling rather early, but still preferred to scoot around on his hands and knees. Maybe because walking took too long – Peter was very quick when it came to crawling, hence all of the baby proofing measures they had taken throughout the apartment to try and keep him contained.

 

Peter crawled towards the baby gate, only to find it closed off towards the living room. Tony tsked and started digging the cheerios out, “See, now you can’t go play with the toys.”

 

Peter let out a shriek and started shaking the gate and Tony replied, “I don’t wanna hear it, kid, you’re the one who tried to kill yourself with a light socket, we’re not playing that game again. Wait til I clean up your mess and I will _accompany_ you since obviously you can’t be trusted to go alone, hm?”

 

The boy plopped onto his bottom, looking at Tony as if he understood every single word coming out of his mouth and he was particularly peeved over it. Tony had to smother a laugh, shaking his head as he muttered good-humoredly, “You’re such a brat.”

 

Tony had gotten so used to conversating with a baby sometimes it was weird speaking to people his own age or older. Besides Rhodey. When Tony wasn’t at school he was working or with Peter. Peter most of the time, as per the deal he made with his father to avoid exposing him to everyone as an awful human being. Hence the tentative birthday invite for lunch. Of course, Tony had given both his mother and father and invitation but he had hesitated in it, if only for a moment. He feared welcoming Howard into their lives before Tony was eighteen. Maybe the fear would disappear when Tony wasn’t sixteen anymore.

 

Tony stood and leaned against the counter, he and Peter looking at one another. Peter shoved his hand into his mouth and Tony crossed his arms over his chest, asking, “Does it feel different? Being a whole year old?”

 

Peter said nothing of course. Peter understood words much better than he could say them. Sometimes Tony worried, because Peter rarely spoke, mostly just happy sounds and sad sounds. Which the pediatrician said was completely normal. Some babies don’t feel the need to talk, but Tony still felt like he was doing something wrong, even though he and Peter had pretend conversations all the time.

 

“A whole year,” Tony mused, “Of you and me. Crazy right?”

 

Again, not response. Peter’s only reaction was removing his hand from his mouth and reaching towards Tony. Tony chuckled, moving towards him from across the room and picking him up. He stepped over the baby gate into the living room and just as he did, the front door handle started to jiggle, and the door flew open. A pile of boxes appeared, along with bags and behind them was Rhodey, gasping for oxygen as decorations spills out.

 

Rhodey gasped, “The elevator is broken.”

 

Tony cackled, as Rhodey nearly tripped over his own feet, setting the cake down on the nearby table and throwing his keys as streamers and such went everywhere. Peter clapped his hands together as Rhodey leaned against the wall, sweating from the August heat. Tony bounced Peter and said, “Uncle Rhodey is back! Took him long enough.”

 

“Shut up,” Rhodey groaned, shutting his eyes.

 

Tony moved to the playpen, much to Peter’s dismay, but he was going to need to stay out of trouble while the party was put together. Tony turned around and slapped his hands together, barely giving Rhodey time to catch his breath…

 

“Time to decorate, Rhodes!”

 

…

 

It was a simplistic party. Easy…For a one-year-old, and Tony knew he had bought too many decorations. Had put a lot of effort into something that maybe wouldn’t matter in a few years, but it mattered to him. It mattered a lot. Cake and a few snacks and some toys. Easy…And happy.

 

Some of Peter’s gifts were sent from people at SI that of course weren’t going to make an effort to drive to a sixteen-year-old’s apartment. People like Obadiah who gifted Peter with stuff that was completely extravagant. Most of the people who showed up were friends of Rhodey’s and Tony’s from school, classmates, some that Tony felt comfortable with because sometimes he forgot he and Rhodey weren’t the same age but other people felt too much older.

 

Peter’s nanny of course. Emma still saw Peter when Tony had to go to class, but she wasn’t needed nearly as much. But Tony knew she had grown attached to Peter. And out of the ten or so guests in their apartment, it felt like the perfect crowd for a one-year-old, and perfect to Tony. Maybe this part was more for him, or maybe not. He just wanted Peter to have these memories, even if it was starting too early for him to recall, Tony clung to it.

 

Amongst the presents, he thought to find one just signed by his mother and father. They had been sent an invitation – but possibly the biggest surprise of the evening was when Tony was prepping the birthday cake for Peter to blow out the candle (not that he expected him to). There was a light knock at the door, but before Tony could go to answer it, the knob turned and a figure appeared, smiling.

 

Maria.

 

Dressed down on a rare occasion, holding a wrapped gift in her hand. She entered the apartment, and Tony held the matches, pausing in lighting it. Tony moved towards her, as he greeted, sounding shocked and breathless at the same time, “Mom…you, you made it.”

 

“I did,” She didn’t hesitate to hug him around his neck, “You think I’d miss my grandson’s first birthday?”

 

Tony paused, glancing at the crowd that had gathered to watch the candle be lit. They were cooing over Peter who sat in his highchair, a party hat forced on his head and his face amazed by all the people in their apartment. Tony cleared his throat and asked, “And…Dad?”  


“Couldn’t make it,” Maria shook her head, sighing, “But he sends his love.”

 

_Of course…Can’t always have those happy endings._

Not that Tony expected perfect, not even from Maria. But this felt like an olive branch…Something that said that not all was forgotten, all of those dark days in their home, and certainly not all was forgiven. But this was coping, at least for Peter’s sake. Being close, but arm’s length apart for protection.

Tony nodded, and took the gift, piling it on top of all the others. He then beaconed his mother forward and said, “Well, c’mon grandma, we’re about to blow out the candles…or…candle.”

 

“Nonna,” She corrected, wagging a warning finger but smiling nonetheless as they joined the crowd. Tony pushed Rhodey out of the way jokingly, lighting the match and touching it gently to the candle on Peter’s cake. The baby’s eyes widened at the sight of the flame, almost reaching out a hand to touch it until Tony pushed it away, cackling while the room erupted into a chorus of ‘happy birthday’.

 

It was instantaneous, that feeling Tony got in his chest. Fond and open, and Peter was confused, but everyone was smiling and Tony was smiling, and he had done so a lot recently. Since being able to be a father to his son – since moving into the apartment. He worked harder now, sure, but he was so much happier. Every night when he went to bed exhausted, it was the good kind. The happy kind, the kind that didn’t need to be fueled by coffee of pills or anything. Peter was there and Howard had stepped back and they were safe.

 

The song ended, all together…Many more dragging onto the end.

 

Peter didn’t blow out the candle, but Tony was more than happy to lean forward and do it for him.

 

The room filled with applause, and Peter’s little hands clapped together too, even though he still looked confused and probably had no idea why they were clapping. A moment Tony hadn’t realized he had been waiting for. Getting to see his son there, surrounded by friends and his mother, being happy and healthy and most of all his. Not someone else’s to raise, just the goodness and all of his chubby features. Peter looked up at Tony, as if asking why everyone looked so happy and Tony’s thoughts only flitted to _you you you you_

_Always you, Pete._

As they cut the cake, and Peter tore into a piece with his bare hands, Tony heard another knock at the door. This time it wasn’t followed by someone making a grand entrance, like his mother, so he set his plate of cake aside, trusting Rhodey and his mother to make sure Peter didn’t choke himself on the icing as he rushed to the door, grabbing the handle and pulling it open without bothering glancing through the peep hole.

 

Standing on the other side was a familiar face.

 

Tony felt his chest swell.

 

Barbara.

 

She was grinning, and as Tony stood shocked, she let out a laugh, immediately hugging him around the neck before he could even recover from his stupor. Tony breathed in shock, “Barbara…you –“

 

“Got the invite?” She pulled away, “I did. And I drove a long way to get here so I sure hope there’s cake left.”

 

Tony had sent the invitation, not expecting a response. She had only met him so briefly, he didn’t think he had left any sort of impression. Tony felt his eyes burn, and he didn’t know why he wanted so badly to cry as if the happiness of the moment sunk deep enough to cut him open. He used the back of his hand to swipe over his face and she continued to smile, this time tsking, “Now, let’s not cry. If you cry, I’ll cry.”

 

“Sorry…” Tony whispered, “I just…I’m so glad you came.”

 

Something told him though she wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

 

He grabbed her hand and insisted, happiness swelling.

 

“Come in. I’ve got all kinds of people I want you to meet.”

 

For the first time in Tony’s life – he knew they were going to be okay.


End file.
